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THE   FAT   OF   THE   LAND 


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THE   FAT  OF   THE   LAND 


Zbe  Stors  of  an 
Hmerican  farm 


BT 

JOHN  WILLIAMS  STREETER 


TStbs  ffotk 
THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLA.N  &  00.,  Ltd. 
1904 

AS.  right*  reserved 


COFTBIOHT,   1904, 

Br  THE  MACMILLA.N  COMPANY. 


Set  up,  electrotyped,  and  published  February,  1904.    Reprinted 
March,  1904. 


NortoooS  Presfl 

J.  S.  Cashing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


To  POLLY 


CONTENTS 


ciirm  taqt. 

I.    My  Excuse 3 

II.  The  Hunting  of  the  Land    ....  11 

III.  The  First  Visit  to  the  Farm       ...  14 

IV.  The  Hired  Man 25 

V.    Boring  for  Water 31 

VI.    We  take  Possession 36 

VII.  The  Horse-and-buggy  Man    ....  45 

VIII.    We  Plat  the  Farm 49 

IX.    House-cleaning 54 

X.    Fenced  in 61 

XL    The  Building  Line 67 

XII.    Carpenters  quit  Work 70 

XIII.  Planning  for  the  Trees        ....  78 

XIV.  Planting  of  the  Trees 88 

XV.    Polly's  Judgment  Hall 94 

XVI.    Winter  Work 101 

XVII.  What  shall  we  ask  of  the  Hen?       .        .  103 

XVIII.    White  Wyandottes 110 

XIX.  Fried  Pork         .        .        .  *     .        .        .        .116 

XX.    A  Ration  for  Product 121 

XXL    The  Razorback 126 

XXII.    The  Old  Orchard 135 

ix 


X 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTKB 

XXIII. 

The  First  Hatch                                      , 

XXIV. 

The  Holstein  Milk  Machine 

XXV. 

The  Dairymaid  . 

XXVI. 

Little  Pigs  .... 

XXVII. 

Work  on  the  Home  Forty 

XXVIII. 

Discounting  the  Market 

XXIX. 

From  City  to  Country     . 

XXX. 

Autumn  Reckoning    .       . 

XXXI. 

The  Children     .        .        . 

xxxn. 

The  Home-coming       .       . 

XXXIII. 

Christmas  Eve    .       .       . 

XXXIV. 

Christmas     .... 

XXXV. 

We  close  the  Books  for  '96 

XXXVI. 

Our  Friends        .       .        . 

XXXVII. 

The  Headman's  Job  .       . 

XXXVIII. 

Spring  of  '97       .       .       . 

XXXIX. 

The  Young  Orchard 

XL. 

The  Timothy  Harvest 

XLI. 

Strike  at  Gordon's  Mine        , 

XLII. 

The  Riot 

XLIII. 

The  Result 

XLIV. 

Deep  Waters      .... 

XLV. 

Dogs  and  Horses        .       .       , 

XLVI. 

The  Skim-milk  Trust 

XLVII. 

Naboth's  Vineyard    . 

XL  VIII. 

Maids  and  Mallards 

XLIX. 

The  Sunken  Garden  . 

L. 

The  Headman  Generalizes     . 

CONTENTS 


XI 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

LI.  The  Grand-girls 308 

LIT.  The  Third  Reckoning 313 

LIII.  The  Milk  Machine 317 

LIV.  Bacon  and  Eggs 328 

LV.  The  Old  Time  Farm-hand  ....  337 

LVI.  The  Syndicate 342 

L VII.  The  Death  of  Sir  Tom        ....  346 

LVIH.  Bacteria  ........  352 

LIX.  Match-making         ......  355 

LX.  "I  told  you  so" 362 

LXI.  The  Belgian  Farmer 367 

LXIL  Home-coming 375 

LXIII.  An  Hundred  Fold 378 

LXIV.  Comfort  me  with  Apples 383 

LXV.  The  End  of  the  Third  Year     .       .       .388 

LXVI.  Looking  Backward        .....  394 

LXVII.  Looking  Forward 402 


THE   FAT   OF   THE   LAND 


THE   FAT   OF   THE   LAND 

CHAPTER   I 

MY   EXCUSE 

My  sixtieth  birthday  is  a  thing  of  yesterday, 
and  I  have,  therefore,  more  than  half  descended 
the  western  slope.  I  have  no  quarrel  with  life  or 
with  time,  for  both  have  been  polite  to  me ;  and  I 
wish  to  give  an  account  of  the  past  seven  years 
to  prove  the  politeness  of  life,  and  to  show  how 
time  has  made  amends  to  me  for  the  forced  res- 
ignation of  my  professional  ambitions.  For 
twenty-five  years,  up  to  1895,  I  practised  medi- 
cine and  surgery  in  a  large  city.  I  loved  my 
profession  beyond  the  love  of  most  men,  and  it 
loved  me ;  at  least,  it  gave  me  all  that  a  reason- 
able man  could  desire  in  the  way  of  honors  and 
emoluments.  The  thought  that  I  should  ever 
drop  out  of  this  attractive,  satisfying  life,  never 
seriously  occurred  to  me,  though  I  was  conscious 
of  a  strong  and  persistent  force  that  urged  me 
toward  the  soil.  By  choice  and  by  training  I 
was  a  physician,  and  I  gloried  in  my  work ;  but 
by  instinct  I  was,  am,  and  always  shall  be,  a 
farmer.     All  my  life  I  have  had  visions  of  farms 

3 


4  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

with  flocks  and  herds,  but  I  did  not  expect  to  real- 
ize my  visions  until  I  came  on  earth  a  second  time. 

I  would  never  have  given  up  my  profession 
voluntarily;  but  when  it  gave  me  up,  I  had 
to  accept  the  dismissal,  surrender  my  ambitions, 
and  fall  back  upon  my  primary  instinct  for  di- 
version and  happiness.  The  dismissal  came  with- 
out warning,  like  the  fall  of  a  tree  when  no  wind 
shakes  the  forest,  but  it  was  imperative  and  per- 
emptory. The  doctors  (and  they  were  among 
the  best  in  the  land)  said,  "  No  more  of  this  kind 
of  work  for  years,"  and  I  had  to  accept  their 
verdict,  though  I  knew  that  "  for  years  "  meant 
forever. 

My  disappointment  lasted  longer  than  the  acute 
attack ;  but,  thanks  to  the  cheerful  spirit  of  my 
wife,  by  early  summer  of  that  year  I  was  able 
to  face  the  situation  with  courage  that  grew  as 
strength  increased.  Fortunately  we  were  well 
to  do,  and  the  loss  of  professional  income  was 
not  a  serious  matter.  We  were  not  rich  as 
wealth  is  counted  nowadays ;  but  we  were  more 
than  comfortable  for  ourselves  and  our  children, 
though  I  should  never  earn  another  dollar.  This 
is  not  the  common  state  of  the  physician,  who 
gives  more  and  gets  less  than  most  other  men ; 
it  was  simply  a  happy  combination  of  circum- 
stances. Polly  was  a  small  heiress  when  we 
married ;  I  had  some  money  from  my  maternal 
grandfather;  our  income  was  larger  than  our 
necessities,  and  our  investments  had  been  fortu- 


MY  EXCUSE  5 

nate.  Fate  had  set  no  wolf  to  howl  at  our 
door. 

In  June  we  decided  to  take  to  the  woods,  or 
rather  to  the  country,  to  see  what  it  had  in  store 
for  us.  The  more  we  thought  of  it,  the  better  I 
liked  the  plan,  and  Polly  was  no  less  happy  over 
it.  We  talked  of  it  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
and  my  half -smothered  instinct  grew  by  what  it 
fed  on.  Countless  schemes  at  length  resolved 
themselves  into  a  factory  farm,  which  should  be 
a  source  of  pleasure  as  well  as  of  income.  It 
was  of  all  sizes,  shapes,  industries,  and  limits  of 
expenditure,  as  the  hours  passed  and  enthusiasm 
waxed  or  waned.  I  finally  compromised  on  from 
two  hundred  to  three  hundred  acres  of  land,  with 
a  total  expenditure  of  not  more  than  $60,000 
for  the  building  of  my  factory.  It  was  to  pro- 
duce butter,  eggs,  pork,  and  apples,  all  of  best 
quality,  and  they  were  to  be  sold  at  best  prices. 
I  discoursed  at  some  length  on  farms  and  farmers 
to  Polly,  who  slept  through  most  of  the  harangue. 
She  afterward  said  that  she  enjoyed  it,  but  I  never 
knew  whether  she  referred  to  my  lecture  or  to  her 
nap. 

If  farming  be  the  art  of  elimination,  I  want  it 
not.  If  the  farmer  and  the  farmer's  family  must, 
by  the  nature  of  the  occupation,  be  deprived  of 
reasonable  leisure  and  luxury,  if  the  conveniences 
and  amenities  must  be  shorn  close,  if  comfort 
must  be  denied  and  life  be  reduced  to  the  ele- 
mental necessities  of  food  and  shelter,  I  want  it 


6  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

not.  But  I  do  not  believe  that  this  is  the  case. 
The  wealth  of  the  world  comes  from  the  land, 
which  produces  all  the  direct  and  immediate 
essentials  for  the  preservation  of  life  and  the 
protection  of  the  race.  When  people  cease  to 
look  to  the  land  for  support,  they  lose  their  in- 
dependence and  fall  under  the  tyranny  of  circum- 
stances beyond  their  control.  They  are  no  longer 
producers,  but  consumers ;  and  their  prosperity 
is  contingent  upon  the  prosperity  and  good  will 
of  other  people  who  are  more  or  less  alien.  Only 
when  a  considerable  percentage  of  a  nation  is 
living  close  to  the  land  can  the  highest  type  of 
independence  and  prosperity  be  enjoyed.  This 
law  applies  to  the  mass  and  also  to  the  indi- 
vidual. The  farmer,  who  produces  all  the  neces- 
sities and  many  of  the  luxuries,  and  whose 
products  are  in  constant  demand  and  never  out 
of  vogue,  should  be  independent  in  mode  of  life 
and  prosperous  in  his  fortunes.  If  this  is  not 
the  condition  of  the  average  farmer  (and  I 
am  sorry  to  say  it  is  not),  the  fault  is  to  be 
found,  not  in  the  land,  but  in  the  man  who 
tills  it. 

Ninety-five  per  cent  of  those  who  engage  in  com- 
mercial and  professional  occupations  fail  of  large 
success ;  more  than  fifty  per  cent  fail  utterly,  and 
are  doomed  to  miserable,  dependent  lives  in  the 
service  of  the  more  fortunate.  That  farmers  do 
not  fail  nearly  so  often  is  due  to  the  bounty  of 
the  land,  the  beneficence  of  Nature,  and  the  ever- 


MY  EXCUSE  7 

recurring  seed-time  and  harvest,  which  even  the 
most  thoughtless  cannot  interrupt. 

The  waking  dream  of  my  life  had  been  to 
own  and  to  work  land ;  to  own  it  free  of  debt, 
and  to  work  it  with  the  same  intelligence  that 
has  made  me  successful  in  my  profession.  Brains 
always  seemed  to  me  as  necessary  to  success  in 
farming  as  in  law,  or  in  medicine,  or  in  business. 
I  always  felt  that  mind  should  control  events  in 
agriculture  as  in  commercial  life ;  that  listlessness, 
carelessness,  lack  of  thrift  and  energy,  and  waste, 
were  the  factors  most  potent  in  keeping  the  farmer 
poor  and  unreasonably  harassed  by  the  obligations 
of  life.  The  men  who  cultivate  the  soil  create 
incalculable  wealth ;  by  rights  they  should  be  the 
nation's  healthiest,  happiest,  most  comfortable,  and 
most  independent  citizens.  Their  lives  should  be 
long,  free  from  care  and  distress,  and  no  more 
strenuous  than  is  wholesome.  That  this  condition 
is  not  general  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  average 
farmer  puts  muscle  before  mind  and  brawn  before 
brains,  and  follows,  with  unthinking  persistence, 
the  crude  and  careless  traditions  of  his  forefathers. 

Conditions  on  the  farm  are  gradually  changing 
for  the  better.  The  agricultural  colleges,  the  ex- 
periment stations,  the  lecture  courses  which  are 
given  all  over  the  country,  and  the  general  diffu- 
sion of  agricultural  and  horticultural  knowledge, 
are  introducing  among  farming  communities  a 
more  intelligent  and  more  liberal  treatment  of 
land.     But  these  changes  are  so  slow,  and  there 


8  THE  FAT  OF  THE   LAND 

is  so  much  to  be  done  before  even  a  small  per- 
centage of  our  six  millions  of  farmers  begin  to 
realize  their  opportunities,  that  even  the  weakest 
effort  in  this  direction  may  be  of  use.  This  is 
my  only  excuse  for  going  minutely  into  the  de- 
tails of  my  experiment  in  the  cultivation  of  land. 
The  plain  and  circumstantial  narrative  of  how- 
Four  Oaks  grew,  in  seven  years,  from  a  poor,  ill- 
paying,  sadly  neglected  farm,  into  a  beautiful 
home  and  a  profitable  investment,  must  simply 
stand  for  what  it  is  worth.  It  may  give  useful 
hints,  to  be  followed  on  a  smaller  or  a  larger 
scale,  or  it  may  arouse  criticisms  which  will  work 
for  good,  both  to  the  critic  and  to  the  author. 
I  do  not  claim  experience,  excepting  the  most 
limited ;  I  do  not  claim  originality,  except  that 
most  of  this  work  was  new  to  me  ;  I  do  not  claim 
hardships  or  difficulties,  for  I  had  none  ;  but  I  do 
claim  that  I  made  good,  that  I  arrived,  that  my 
experiment  was  physically  and  financially  a  suc- 
cess, and,  as  such,  I  am  proud  of  it,  and  wish  to 
give  it  to  the  world. 

I  was  fifty-three  years  old  when  I  began  this 
experiment,  and  I  was  obliged  to  do  quickly 
whatever  I  intended  to  do.  I  could  devote  any 
part  of  $60,000  to  the  experiment  without  in- 
convenience. My  desire  was  to  test  the  capa- 
city of  ordinary  farm  land,  when  properly  treated, 
to  support  an  average  family  in  luxury,  paying 
good  wages  to  more  than  the  usual  number  of 
people,  keeping  open  house   for   many  friends, 


MY  EXCUSE  9 

and  at  the  same  time  not  depleting  my  bank 
account.  I  wished  to  experiment  in  intensive 
farming,  using  ordinary  farm  land  as  other  men 
might  do  under  similar  or  modified  circumstances. 
I  believed  that  if  I  fed  the  land,  it  would  feed 
me.  My  plan  was  to  sell  nothing  from  the  farm 
except  finished  products,  such  as  butter,  fruit, 
eggs,  chickens,  and  hogs.  I  believed  that  best 
results  would  be  attained  by  keeping  only  the 
best  stock,  and,  after  feeding  it  liberally,  selling 
it  in  the  most  favorable  market.  To  live  on  the 
fat  of  the  land  was  what  I  proposed  to  do ;  and 
I  ask  your  indulgence  while  I  dip  into  the  details 
of  this  seven  years'  experiment. 

You  may  say  that  few  persons  have  the  time, 
inclination,  taste,  or  money  to  carry  out  such  an 
experiment ;  that  the  average  farmer  must  make 
each  year  pay,  and  that  the  exploiting  of  this 
matter  is  therefore  of  interest  to  a  very  limited 
number.  Admitting  much  of  this,  I  still  claim 
that  there  is  a  lesson  to  every  struggling  farmer 
in  this  narrative.  It  should  teach  the  value  of 
brain  work  on  the  farm,  and  the  importance 
of  intelligent  cultivation ;  also  the  advantages  of 
good  seed,  good  tilth,  good  specimens  of  well- 
bred  stock,  good  food,  and  good  care.  Feed  the 
land  liberally,  and  it  will  return  you  much.  Per- 
mit no  waste  in  space,  product,  time,  tools,  or 
strength.  Do  in  a  small  way,  if  need  be,  what 
I  have  done  on  a  large  scale,  and  you  will  quickly 
commence  to  get  good  dividends.     I  have  spent 


10  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

much  more  money  than  was  really  necessary  on 
the  place,  and  in  the  ornamentation  of  Four  Oaks. 
This,  however,  was  part  of  the  experiment.  I 
asked  the  land  not  only  to  supply  immediate 
necessities,  but  to  minister  to  my  every  want, 
to  gratify  the  eye,  and  please  the  senses  by  a 
harmonious  fusion  of  utility  and  beauty.  I 
wanted  a  fine  country  home  and  a  profitable 
investment  within  the  same  ring  fence. 

Will  you  follow  me  through  the  search  for  the 
land,  the  purchase,  and  the  tremendous  house- 
cleaning  of  the  first  year  ?  After  that  we  will 
take  up  the  years  as  they  come,  finding  something 
of  special  interest  attaching  naturally  to  each. 
I  shall  have  to  deal  much  with  figures  and  sta- 
tistics, in  a  small  way,  and  my  pages  may  look 
like  a  school  book,  but  I  cannot  avoid  this,  for 
in  these  figures  and  statistics  lies  the  practical 
lesson.  Theory  alone  is  of  no  value.  Practical 
application  of  the  theory  is  the  test.  I  am  not 
imaginative.  I  could  not  write  a  romance  if  I 
tried.  My  strength  lies  in  special  detail,  and  I 
am  willing  to  spend  a  lot  of  time  in  working 
out  a  problem.  I  do  not  claim  to  have  spent 
this  time  and  money  without  making  serious 
mistakes ;  I  have  made  many,  and  I  am  willing 
to  admit  them,  as  you  will  see  in  the  following 
pages.  I  do  claim,  however,  that,  in  spite  of 
mistakes,  I  have  solved  the  problem,  and  have 
proved  that  an  intelligent  farmer  can  live  in 
luxury  on  the  fat  of  the  land. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE   HUNTING   OP   THE   LAND 

The  location  of  the  farm  for  this  experiment 
was  of  the  utmost  importance.  The  land  must 
be  within  reasonable  distance  of  the  city  and 
near  a  railroad,  consequently  within  easy  touch 
of  the  market ;  and  if  possible  it  must  be  near  a 
thriving  village,  to  insure  good  train  service.  As 
to  size,  I  was  somewhat  uncertain ;  my  minimum 
limit  was  150  acres  and  400  the  maximum.  The 
land  must  be  fertile,  or  capable  of  being  made 
so. 

I  advertised  for  a  farm  of  from  two  hundred 
to  four  hundred  acres,  within  thirty-five  miles  of 
town,  and  convenient  to  a  good  line  of  transpor- 
tation. Fifty-seven  replies  came,  of  which  forty- 
six  were  impossible,  eleven  worth  a  second 
reading,  and  five  worth  investigating.  My  third 
trip  carried  me  thirty  miles  southwest  of  the 
city,  to  a  village  almost  wholly  made  up  of 
wealthy  people  who  did  business  in  town,  and 
who  had  their  permanent  or  their  summer  homes 
in  this  village.  There  were  probably  twenty- 
seven  or  twenty-eight  hundred  people  in  the 
village,  most   of  whom  owned  estates  of   from 

ll 


12  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

one  to  thirty  acres,  varying  in  value  from  $10,000 
to  $100,000.  These  seemed  ideal  surroundings. 
The  farm  was  a  trifle  more  than  two  miles 
from  the  station,  and  320  acres  in  extent.  It 
lay  to  the  west  of  a  north-and-south  road,  abut- 
ting on  this  road  for  half  a  mile,  while  on  the 
south  it  was  bordered  for  a  mile  by  a  gravelled 
road,  and  the  west  line  was  an  ordinary  country 
road.  The  lay  of  the  land  in  general  was  a 
gentle  slope  to  the  west  and  south  from  a  rather 
high  knoll,  the  highest  point  of  which  was  in  the 
north  half  of  the  southeast  forty.  The  land 
stretched  away  to  the  west,  gradually  sloping 
to  its  lowest  point,  which  was  about  two-thirds 
of  the  distance  to  the  western  boundary.  A 
straggling  brook  at  its  lowest  point  was  more 
or  less  rampant  in  springtime,  though  during 
July  and  August  it  contained    but  little  water. 

Westward  from  the  brook  the  land  sloped 
gradually  upward,  terminating  in  a  forest  of 
forty  to  fifty  acres.  This  forest  was  in  good 
condition.  The  trees  were  mostly  varieties  of 
oak  and  hickory,  with  a  scattering  of  wild 
cherry,  a  few  maples,  both  hard  and  soft,  and 
some  lindens.  It  was  much  overgrown  with 
underbrush,  weeds,  and  wild  flowers.  The  land 
was  generally  good,  especially  the  lower  parts  of 
it.  The  soil  of  the  higher  ground  was  thin,  but 
it  lay  on  top  of  a  friable  clay  which  is  fertile 
when  properly  worked  and  enriched. 

The  farm  belonged  to  an  unsettled  estate,  and 


THE   HUNTING   OF  THE  LAND  13 

was  much  run  down,  as  little  had  been  done  to 
improve  its  fertility,  and  much  to  deplete  it. 
There  were  two  sets  of  buildings,  including  a 
house  of  goodly  proportions,  a  cottage  of  no 
particular  value,  and  some  dilapidated  barns. 
The  property  could  be  bought  at  a  bargain.  It 
had  been  held  at  $100  an  acre  ;  but  as  the  estate 
was  in  process  of  settlement,  and  there  was  an 
urgent  desire  to  force  a  sale,  I  finally  secured  it 
for  $71  per  acre.  The  two  renters  on  the  farm 
still  had  six  months  of  occupancy  before  their 
leases  expired.  They  were  willing  to  resign  their 
leases  if  I  would  pay  a  reasonable  sum  for  the 
standing  crops  and  their  stock  and  equipments. 
The  crops  comprised  about  forty  acres  of  corn, 
fifty  acres  of  oats,  and  five  acres  of  potatoes. 
The  stock  was  composed  of  two  herds  of  cows 
(seven  in  one  and  nine  in  the  other),  eleven  spring 
calves,  about  forty  hogs,  and  the  usual  assort- 
ment of  domestic  fowls.  The  equipment  of  the 
farm  in  machinery  and  tools  was  meagre  to 
the  last  degree.  I  offered  the  renters  $700  and 
$600,  respectively,  for  their  leasehold  and  other 
property.  This  was  more  than  their  value,  but 
I  wanted  to  take  possession  at  once. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   FIRST    VISIT   TO    THE    FAEM 

It  was  the  8th  of  July,  1895,  when  I  contracted 
for  the  farm ;  possession  was  to  be  given  August 
1st.  On  July  9th,  Polly  and  I  boarded  an  early 
train  for  Exeter,  intending  to  make  a  day  of  it 
in  every  sense.  We  wished  to  go  over  the  prop- 
erty thoroughly,  and  to  decide  on  a  general  out- 
line of  treatment.  Polly  was  as  enthusiastic 
over  the  experiment  as  I,  and  she  is  energetic, 
quick  to  see,  and  prompt  to  perform.  She  was 
to  have  the  planning  of  the  home  grounds  —  the 
house  and  the  gardens ;  and  not  only  the  plan- 
ning, but  also  the  full  control. 

A  ride  of  forty-five  minutes  brought  us  to 
Exeter.  The  service  of  this  railroad,  by  the  way, 
is  of  the  best ;  there  is  hardly  a  half-hour  in  the 
day  when  one  cannot  make  the  trip  either  way, 
and  the  fare  is  moderate:  $8.75  for  twenty-five 
rides, — thirty -five  cents  a  ride.  We  hired  an  open 
carriage  and  started  for  the  farm.  The  first  half- 
mile  was  over  a  well-kept  macadam  road  through 
that  part  of  the  village  which  lies  west  of  the 
railway.  The  homes  bordering  this  street  are  of 
fine  proportions,  and  beautifully  kept.     They  are 

14 


THE  FIRST  VISIT   TO   THE  FARM         15 

the  country  places  of  well-to-do  people  who  love 
to  get  away  from  the  noise  and  dirt  of  the  city. 
Some  of  them  have  ten  or  fifteen  acres  of  ground, 
but  this  land  is  for  breathing  space  and  beauty 
—  not  for  serious  cultivation.  Beyond  these 
homes  we  followed  a  well-gravelled  road  leading 
directly  west.  This  road  is  bordered  by  small 
farms,  most  of  them  given  over  to  dairying 
interests. 

Presently  I  called  Polly's  attention  to  the  fact 
that  the  few  apple  trees  we  saw  were  healthy 
and  well  grown,  though  quite  independent  of  the 
farmer's  or  the  pruner's  care.  This  thrifty  con- 
dition of  unkept  apple  orchards  delighted  me. 
I  intended  to  make  apple-growing  a  prominent 
feature  in  my  experiment,  and  I  reasoned  that  if 
these  trees  did  fairly  well  without  cultivation  or 
care,  others  would  do  excellently  well  with  both. 

As  we  approached  the  second  section  line  and 
climbed  a  rather  steep  hill,  we  got  the  first 
glimpse  of  our  possession.  At  the  bottom  of  the 
western  slope  of  this  hill  we  could  see  the  cross- 
ing of  the  north-and-south  road,  which  we  knew 
to  be  the  east  boundary  of  our  land ;  while, 
stretching  straight  away  before  us  until  lost  in 
the  distant  wood,  lay  the  well-kept  road  which 
for  a  good  mile  was  our  southern  boundary. 
Descending  the  hill,  we  stopped  at  the  crossing 
of  the  roads  to  take  in  the  outline  of  the  farm 
from  this  southeast  corner.  The  north-and-south 
road  ran  level  for  150  yards,  gradually  rose  for 


16  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

the  next  250,  and  then  continued  nearly  level  for 
a  mile  or  more.  We  saw  what  Jane  Austen  calls 
"a  happy  fall  of  land,"  with  a  southern  ex- 
posure, which  included  about  two-thirds  of  the 
southeast  forty,  and  high  land  beyond  for  the 
balance  of  this  forty  and  the  forty  lying  north 
of  it.  There  was  an  irregular  fringe  of  forest 
trees  on  this  southern  slope,  especially  well  de- 
fined along  the  eastern  border.  I  saw  that  Polly 
was  pleased  with  the  view. 

"  We  must  enter  the  home  lot  from  this  level 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill,"  said  she,  "  wind  grace- 
fully through  the  timber,  and  come  out  near 
those  four  large  trees  on  the  very  highest  ground. 
That  will  be  effective  and  easily  managed,  and 
will  give  me  a  chance  at  landscape  gardening, 
which  I  am  just  aching  to  try." 

"  All  right,"  said  I,  "  you  shall  have  a  free 
hand.  Let's  drive  around  the  boundaries  of  our 
land  and  behold  its  magnitude  before  we  make 
other  plans." 

We  drove  westward,  my  eyes  intent  upon  the 
fields,  the  fences,  the  crops,  and  everything  that 
pertained  to  the  place.  I  had  waited  so  many 
years  for  the  sense  of  ownership  of  land  that 
I  could  hardly  realize  that  this  was  not  another 
dream  from  which  I  would  soon  be  awakened 
by  something  real.  I  noticed  that  the  land  was 
fairly  smooth  except  where  it  was  broken  by 
half-rotted  stumps  or  out-cropping  boulders,  that 
the   corn   looked    well   and   the   oats   fair,  but 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  THE  FARM         17 

the  pasture  lands  were  too  well  seeded  to  dock, 
milkweed,  and  wild  mustard  to  be  attractive, 
and  the  fences  were  cheap  and  much  broken. 

The  woodland  near  the  western  limit  proved 
to  be  practically  a  virgin  forest,  in  which  oak 
trees  predominated.  The  undergrowth  was 
dense,  except  near  the  road ;  it  was  chiefly  hazel, 
white  thorn,  dogwood,  young  cherry,  and  sec- 
ond growth  hickory  and  oak.  We  turned  the 
corner  and  followed  the  woods  for  half  a  mile  to 
where  a  barbed  wire  fence  separated  our  forest 
from  the  woodland  adjoining  it.  Coming  back 
to  the  starting-point  we  turned  north  and  slowly 
climbed  the  hill  to  the  east  of  our  home  lot, 
silently  developing  plans.  We  drove  the  full 
half-mile  of  our  eastern  boundary  before  turning 
back. 

I  looked  with  special  interest  at  the  orchard, 
which  was  on  the  northeast  forty.  I  had  seen 
it  on  my  first  visit,  but  had  given  it  little  atten- 
tion, noting  merely  that  the  trees  were  well 
grown.  I  now  counted  the  rows,  and  found 
that  there  were  twelve;  the  trees  in  each  row 
had  originally  been  twenty,  and  as  these  trees 
were  about  thirty-five  feet  apart,  it  was  easy  to 
estimate  that  six  acres  had  been  given  to  this 
orchard.  The  vicissitudes  of  seventeen  years  had 
not  been  without  effect,  and  there  were  irregular 
gaps  in  the  rows,  —  here  a  sick  tree,  there  a  dead 
one.  A  careless  estimate  placed  these  casualties 
at  fifty-five  or  sixty,  which   I  later  found  was 


18  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

nearly  correct.  This  left  180  trees  in  fair  health ; 
and  in  spite  of  the  tight  sod  which  covered  their 
roots  and  a  lamentable  lack  of  pruning,  they 
were  well  covered  with  young  fruit.  They  had 
been  headed  high  in  the  old-fashioned  way, 
which  made  them  look  more  like  forest  trees 
than  a  modern  orchard.  They  had  done  well 
without  a  husbandman;  what  could  not  others 
do  with  one  ? 

The  group  of  farm  buildings  on  the  north  forty 
consisted  of  a  one-story  cottage  containing  six 
rooms  —  sitting  room,  dining  room,  kitchen,  and 
a  bedroom  opening  off  each  —  with  a  lean-to  shed 
in  the  rear,  and  some  woe-begone  barns,  sheds, 
and  out-buildings  that  gave  the  impression  of  not 
caring  how  they  looked.  The  second  group  was 
better.  It  was  south  of  the  orchard  on  the  home 
forty,  and  quite  near  the  road. 

Why  does  the  universal  farm-house  hang  its 
gable  over  the  public  road,  without  tree  or  shrub 
to  cover  its  boldness  ?  It  would  look  much 
better,  and  give  greater  comfort  to  its  inmates, 
if  it  were  more  remote.  A  lawn  leading  up  to 
a  house,  even  though  not  beautiful  or  well  kept, 
adds  dignity  and  character  to  a  place  out  of  all 
proportion  to  its  waste  or  expense.  I  know  of 
nothing  that  would  add  so  much  to  the  beautifi- 
cation  of  the  country-side  as  a  building  line  pro- 
hibiting houses  and  barns  within  a  hundred  yards 
of  a  public  road.  A  staring,  glaring  farm-house, 
flanked  by  a  red  barn  and  a  pigsty,  all  crowding 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  THE  FAKM         Id 

the  public  road  as  hard  as  the  path-master  will 
permit,  is  incongruous  and  unsightly.  With  all 
outdoors  to  choose  from,  why  ape  the  crowded 
city  streets  ?  With  much  to  apologize  for  in 
barn  and  pigsty,  why  place  them  in  the  seat  of 
honor  ?  Moreover,  many  things  which  take  place 
on  the  farm  gain  enchantment  from  distance.  It 
is  best  to  leave  some  scope  for  the  imagination 
of  the  passer-by.  These  and  other  things  will 
change  as  farmers'  lives  grow  more  gracious,  and 
more  attention  is  given  to  beautifying  country 
houses. 

The  house,  whose  gables  looked  up  and  down 
the  street,  was  two  stories  in  height,  twenty-five 
feet  by  forty  in  the  main,  with  a  one-story  ell 
running  back.  Without  doubt  there  was  a  parlor, 
sitting  room,  and  four  chambers  in  the  main,  with 
dining  room  and  kitchen  in  the  ell. 

"  That  will  do  for  the  head  man's  house,  if  we 
put  it  in  the  right  place  and  fix  it  up,"  said 
Polly. 

"  My  young  lady,  I  propose  to  be  the  ■  head 
man '  on  this  farm,  and  I  wish  it  spelled  with  a 
capital  H,  but  I  do  not  expect  to  live  in  that 
house.  It  will  do  first-rate  for  the  farmer  and 
his  men,  when  you  have  placed  it  where  you 
want  it,  but  I  intend  to  live  in  the  big  house 
with  you." 

"  We'll  not  disagree  about  that,  Mr.  Head- 
man." 

The     barns    were    fairly    good,    but      badly 


20  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

placed.  They  were  not  worth  the  expense  of 
moving,  so  I  decided  to  let  them  stand  as  they 
were  until  we  could  build  better  ones,  and  then 
tear  them  down. 

We  drove  in  through  a  clump  of  trees  behind 
the  farm-house,  and  pushed  on  about  three  hun- 
dred yards  to  the  crest  of  the  knoll.  Here  we 
got  out  of  the  carriage  and  looked  about,  with 
keen  interest,  in  every  direction.  The  views 
were  wide  toward  three  points  of  the  compass. 
North  and  northwest  we  could  see  pleasant  lands 
for  at  least  two  miles ;  directly  west,  our  eyes 
could  not  reach  beyond  our  own  forest ;  to  the 
south  and  southwest,  fruitful  valleys  stretched 
away  to  a  range  of  wooded  hills  four  miles  dis- 
tant ;  but  on  the  east  our  view  was  limited  by 
the  fringe  of  woods  which  lay  between  us  and 
the  north-and-south  road. 

"  This  is  the  exact  spot  for  the  house,"  said 
Polly.  «  It  must  face  to  the  south,  with  a  broad 
piazza,  and  the  chief  entrance  must  be  on  the 
east.  The  kitchens  and  fussy  things  will  be  out 
of  sight  on  the  northwest  corner ;  two  stories,  a 
high  attic  with  rooms,  and  covered  all  over  with 
yellow-brown  shingles."  She  had  it  all  settled 
in  a  minute. 

"  What  will  the  paper  on  your  bedroom  wall 
be  like  ?  "  I  asked. 

"I  know  perfectly  well,  but  I  shan't  tell 
you." 

Seating  myself  on  an  out-cropping  boulder,  I 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  THE  FARM         21 

began  to  study  the  geography  of  the  farm.  In 
imagination  I  stripped  it  of  stock,  crops,  build- 
ings, and  fences,  and  saw  it  as  bald  as  the  palm 
of  my  hand.  I  recited  the  table  of  long  measure  : 
Sixteen  and  a  half  feet,  one  rod,  perch,  or  pole ; 
forty  rods,  one  furlong ;  eight  furlongs,  one  mile. 
Eight  times  40  is  320 ;  there  are  320  rods  in  a 
mile,  but  how  much  is  161  times  320  ?  "  Polly, 
how  much  is  161  times  320  ?  " 

"  Don't  bother  me  now  ;  I'm  busy." 

(Just  as  if  she  could  have  told  in  her  moment 
of  greatest  leisure !)  I  resorted  to  paper  and 
pencil,  and  learned  that  there  are  5280  feet  in 
each  and  every  mile.  My  land  was,  therefore, 
5280  feet  long  and  2640  feet  wide.  I  must  split 
it  in  some  way,  by  a  road  or  a  lane,  to  make  all 
parts  accessible.  If  I  divided  it  by  two  lanes 
of  twenty  feet  each,  I  could  have  on  either  side  of 
these  lanes  lots  650  feet  deep,  and  these  would 
be  quite  manageable.  I  found  that  if  these  lots 
were  660  feet  long,  they  would  contain  ten  acres 
minus  the  ten  feet  used  for  the  lane.  This 
seemed  a  real  discovery,  as  it  simplified  my 
calculations  and  relieved  me  of  much  mental 
effort. 

"Polly,  I  am  going  to  make  a  map  of  the 
place,  —  lay  it  out  just  as  I  want  it." 

"  You  may  leave  the  home  forty  out  of 
your  map ;  I  will  look  after  that,"  said  the 
lady. 

In  my  pocket  I  found  three  envelopes  some- 


22 


THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 


what  the  worse  for  wear.     This  is  how  one  of 
them  looked  when  my  map  was  finished. 


I  am  not  especially  haughty  about  this  map, 
but  it  settled  a  matter  which  had  been  chaotic 
in  my  mind.  My  plan  was  to  make  the  farm 
a  soiling  one;  to  confine  the  stock  within  as 
limited  a  space  as  was  consistent  with  good 
health,  and  to  feed  cultivated  forage  and  crops. 
In  drawing  my  map,  the  forty  which  Polly 
had  segregated  left  the  northeast  forty  stand- 
ing alone,  and  I  had  to  cast  about  for  some 
good  way  of  treating  it.  "Make  it  your  feed- 
ing ground,"  said  my  good  genius,  and  thus 
the  wrath  of  Polly  was  made  to  glorify  my 
plans. 

This  feeding  lot  of  forty  acres  is  all  high  land, 
naturally  drained.  It  was  near  the  obvious  build- 
ing line,  and  it  seemed  suitable  in  every  way.  I 
drew  a  line  from  north  to  south,  cutting  it  in 
the  middle.  The  east  twenty  I  devoted  to  cows 
and  their  belongings ;  the  west  twenty  was  di- 


THE   FIRST  VISIT  TO   THE  FARM         23 

vided  by  right  lines  into  lots  of  five  acres  each, 
the  southwest  one  for  the  hens  and  the  other 
three  for  hogs. 

Looking  around  for  Polly  to  show  her  my 
work,  I  found  she  had  disappeared ;  but  soon  I 
saw  her  white  gown  among  the  trees.  Joining 
her,  I  said, — 

"I  have  mapped  seven  forties;  have  you 
finished  one  ?  " 

"I  have  not,"  she  said.  "Mine  is  of  more 
importance  than  all  of  yours ;  I  will  give  you 
a  sketch  this  evening.  This  bit  of  woods  is 
better  than  I  thought.  How  much  of  it  do  you 
suppose  there  is  ?  " 

"  About  seven  acres,  I  reckon,  by  hook  and  by 
crook ;  enough  to  amuse  you  and  furnish  a  lot 
of  wild-flower  seed  to  be  floated  over  the  rest  of 
the  farm." 

"  You  may  plant  what  seeds  you  like  on  the 
rest  of  the  farm,  but  I  must  have  wild  flowers. 
Do  you  know  how  long  it  is  since  I  have  had 
them  ?     Not  since  I  was  a  girl !  " 

"That  is  not  very  long,  Polly.  You  don't 
look  much  more  than  a  girl  to-day.  You  shall 
have  asters  and  goldenrod  and  black-eyed  Susans 
to  your  heart's  content  if  you  will  always  be 
as  young." 

"  I  believe  Time  will  turn  backward  for  both 
of  us  out  here,  Mr.  Headman.  But  I'm  as  hun- 
gry as  a  wolf.  Do  you  think  we  can  get  a  glass 
of  milk  of  the  *  farm  lady '  ?  " 


24 


THE  FAT  OP  THE  LAND 


We  tried,  succeeded,  and  then  started  for 
home.  Neither  of  us  had  much  to  say  on  the 
return  trip,  for  our  minds  were  full  of  unsolved 
problems.  That  evening  Polly  showed  me  this 
plat  of  the  home  forty. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    HIRED    MAN 

Modern  farming  is  greatly  handicapped  by 
the  difficulty  of  getting  good  help.  I  need  not 
go  into  the  causes  which  have  operated  to  bring 
about  this  condition ;  it  exists,  and  it  has  to  be 
met.  I  cannot  hope  to  solve  the  problem  for 
others,  but  I  can  tell  how  I  solved  it  for  myself. 
I  determined  that  the  men  who  worked  for  me 
should  find  in  me  a  considerate  friend  who  would 
look  after  their  interests  in  a  reasonable  and 
neighborly  fashion.  They  should  be  well  housed 
and  well  fed,  and  should  have  clean  beds,  clean 
table  linen  and  an  attractively  set  table,  papers, 
magazines,  and  books,  and  a  comfortable  room 
in  which  to  read  them.  There  should  be  reason- 
able work  hours  and  hours  for  recreation,  and 
abundant  bathing  facilities ;  and  everything  at 
Four  Oaks  should  proclaim  the  dignity  of  labor. 

From  the  men  I  expected  cleanliness,  sobriety, 
uniform  kindness  to  all  animals,  cheerful  obedi- 
ence, industry,  and  a  disposition  to  save  their 
wages.  These  demands  seemed  to  me  reason- 
able, and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  adhere  to  them 
if  I  had  to  try  a  hundred  men. 

26 


26  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

The  best  way  to  get  good  farm  hands  who 
would  be  happy  and  contented,  I  thought,  was 
to  go  to  the  city  and  find  men  who  had  shot 
their  bolts  and  failed  of  the  mark ;  men  who 
had  come  up  from  the  farm  hoping  for  easier  or 
more  ambitious  lives,  but  who  had  failed  to  find 
what  they  sought  and  had  experienced  the  unrest 
of  a  hand-to-mouth  struggle  for  a  living  in  a 
large  city  ;  men  who  were  pining  for  the  country, 
perhaps  without  knowing  it,  and  who  saw  no 
way  to  get  back  to  it.  I  advertised  my  wants 
in  a  morning  paper,  and  asked  my  son,  who  was 
on  vacation,  to  interview  the  applicants.  From 
noon  until  six  o'clock  my  ante-room  was  invaded 
by  a  motley  procession  —  delicate  boys  of  fifteen 
who  wanted  to  go  to  the  country,  old  men  who 
thought  they  could  do  farm  work,  clerks  and 
janitors  out  of  employment,  typical  tramps  and 
hoboes  who  diffused  very  naughty  smells,  and 
a  few — a  very  few  —  who  seemed  to  know 
what  they  could  do  and  what  they  really 
wanted. 

Jack  took  the  names  of  five  promising  men, 
and  asked  them  to  come  again  the  next  day. 
In  the  morning  I  interviewed  them,  dismissed 
three,  and  accepted  two  on  the  condition  that 
their  references  proved  satisfactory.  As  these 
men  are  still  at  Four  Oaks,  after  seven  years  of 
steady  employment,  and  as  I  hope  they  will  stay 
twenty  years  longer,  I  feel  that  the  reader  should 
know  them.     Much  of  the  smooth  sailing  at  the 


THE  HIRED  MAN  27 

farm  is  due  to  their  personal  interest,  steadiness 
of  purpose,  and  cheerful  optimism. 

William  Thompson,  forty-six  years  of  age,  tall, 
lean,  wiry,  had  been  a  farmer  all  his  life.  His 
wife  had  died  three  years  before,  and  a  year 
later,  he  had  lost  his  farm  through  an  imperfect 
title.  Understanding  machinery  and  being  a  fair 
carpenter,  he  then  came  to  the  city,  with  8200  in 
his  pocket,  joined  the  Carpenter's  Union,  and 
tried  to  make  a  living  at  that  trade.  Between 
dull  business,  lock-outs,  tie-ups,  and  strikes,  he 
was  reduced  to  fifty  cents,  and  owed  three 
dollars  for  room  rent.  He  was  in  dead  earnest 
when  he  threw  his  union  card  on  my  table  and 
said :  — 

"  I  would  rather  work  for  fifty  cents  a  day  on 
a  farm  than  take  my  chances  for  six  times  as 
much  in  the  union." 

This  was  the  sort  of  man  I  wanted :  one  who 
had-  tried  other  things  and  was  glad  of  a  chance 
to  return  to  the  land.  Thompson  said  that  after 
he  had  spent  one  lonesome  year  in  the  city,  he 
had  married  a  sensible  woman  of  forty,  who  was 
now  out  at  service  on  account  of  his  hard  luck. 
He  also  told  of  a  husky  son  of  two-and-twenty 
who  was  at  work  on  a  farm  within  fifty  miles 
of  the  city.  I  liked  the  man  from  the  first,  for 
he  seemed  direct  and  earnest.  I  told  him  to  eat 
up  the  fifty  cents  he  had  in  his  pocket  and  to 
see  me  at  noon  of  the  following  day.  Meantime 
I  looked  up  one  of  his  references ;  and  when  he 


28  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

came,  I  engaged  him,  with  the  understanding 
that  his  time  should  begin  at  once. 

The  wage  agreed  upon  was  $20  a  month  for 
the  first  half-year.  If  he  proved  satisfactory,  he 
was  to  receive  $21  a  month  for  the  next  six 
months,  and  there  was  to  be  a  raise  of  $1  a 
month  for  each  half-year  that  he  remained  with 
me  until  his  monthly  wage  should  amount  to 
$40,  —  each  to  give  or  take  a  month's  notice  to 
quit.  This  seemed  fair  to  both.  I  would  not 
pay  more  than  $20  a  month  to  an  untried  man, 
but  a  good  man  is  worth  more.  As  I  wanted 
permanent,  steady  help,  I  proposed  to  offer  a  fair 
bonus  to  secure  it.  Other  things  being  equal,  the 
man  who  has  "  gotten  the  hang "  of  a  farm  can 
do  better  work  and  get  better  results  than  a 
stranger. 

The  transient  farm-hand  is  a  delusion  and  a 
snare.  He  has  no  interest  except  his  wages,  and 
he  is  a  breeder  of  discontent.  If  the  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  able-bodied  men  who  are  work- 
ing for  scant  wages  in  cities,  or  inanely  tramping 
the  country,  could  see  the  dignity  of  the  labor 
which  is  directly  productive,  what  a  change 
would  come  over  the  face  of  the  country  !  There 
are  nearly  six  million  farms  in  this  nation,  and 
four  millions  of  them  would  be  greatly  benefited 
by  the  addition  of  another  man  to  the  working 
force.  There  is  a  comfortable  living  and  a  mini- 
mum of  $180  a  year  for  each  of  four  million  men, 
if  they  will  only  seek  it  and  honestly  earn  it. 


THE  HIRED  MAN  29 

Seven  hundred  millions  in  wages,  and  double  or 
treble  that  in  product  and  added  values,  is  a 
consideration  not  unworthy  the  attention  of 
social  scientists.  To  favor  an  exodus  to  the  land 
is,  I  believe,  the  highest  type  of  benevolence, 
and  the  surest  and  safest  solution  of  the  labor 
problem. 

Besides  engaging  Thompson,  I  tentatively  be- 
spoke the  services  of  his  wife  and  son.  Mrs. 
Thompson  was  to  come  for  $15  a  month  and  a 
half-dollar  raise  for  each  six  months,  the  son  on 
the  same  terms  as  the  father. 

The  other  man  whom  I  engaged  that  day  was 
William  Johnson,  a  tall,  blond  Swede  about 
twenty-six  years  old.  Johnson  had  learned 
gardening  in  the  old  country,  and  had  followed 
it  two  years  in  the  new.  He  was  then  employed 
in  a  market  gardener's  greenhouse ;  but  he 
wanted  to  change  from  under  glass  to  out  of 
doors,  and  to  have  charge  of  a  lawn,  shrubs, 
flowers,  and  a  kitchen  garden.  He  spoke  bro- 
kenly, but  intelligently,  had  an  honest  eye,  and 
looked  to  me  like  a  real  "find."  Polly,  who 
was  to  be  his  immediate  boss,  was  pleased  with 
him,  and  we  took  him  with  the  understanding 
that  he  was  to  make  himself  generally  useful 
until  the  time  came  for  his  special  line  of  work. 
I  now  had  two  men  engaged  (with  a  possible 
third)  and  one  woman,  and  my  venire  was 
exhausted. 

Two  days  later  I  again  advertised,  and  out  of 


30  THE  FAT   OF   THE  LAND 

a  number  of  applicants  secured  one  man.  Sam 
Jones  was  a  sturdy-looking  fellow  of  middle  age, 
with  a  suspiciously  red  nose.  He  had  been  bred 
on  a  farm,  had  learned  the  carpenter's  trade,  and 
was  especially  good  at  taking  care  of  chickens. 
His  ambition  was  to  own  and  run  a  chicken 
plant.  I  hired  him  on  the  same  terms  as  the 
others,  but  with  misgivings  on  account  of  the 
florid  nose.  This  was  on  the  19th  or  20th  of 
July,  and  there  were  still  ten  days  before  I  could 
enter  into  possession.  The  men  were  told  to 
report  for  duty  the  last  day  of  the  month. 


CHAPTER  V 

BORING   FOR    WATER 

The  water  supply  was  the  next  problem.  I 
determined  to  have  an  abundant  and  convenient 
supply  of  running  water  in  the  house,  the  barns, 
and  the  feeding  grounds,  and  also  on  the  lawn 
and  gardens.  I  would  have  no  carrying  or  haul- 
ing of  water,  and  no  lack  of  it.  There  were  four 
wells  on  the  place,  two  of  them  near  the  houses 
and  two  stock  wells  in  the  lower  grounds.  Near 
the  well  at  the  large  house  was  a  windmill  that 
pumped  water  into  a  small  tank,  from  which  it 
was  piped  to  the  barn-yard  and  the  lower  story 
of  the  house.  The  supply  was  inadequate  and 
not  at  all  to  my  liking. 

My  plan  involved  not  only  finding,  raising, 
and  distributing  water,  but  also  the  care  of 
waste  water  and  sewage.  Inquiring  among 
those  who  had  deep  wells  in  the  village,  I  found 
that  good  water  was  usually  reached  at  from 
180  to  210  feet.  As  my  well-site  was  high,  I 
expected  to  have  to  bore  deep.  I  contracted 
with  a  well  man  of  good  repute  for  a  six-inch 
well  of  250  feet  (or  less),  piped  and  finished  to 
the  surface,  for  $2  a  foot ;  any  greater  depth  to 
be  subject  to  further  agreement. 

81 


32  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

It  took  nearly  three  months  to  finish  the  water 
system,  but  it  has  proved  wonderfully  conven- 
ient and  satisfactory.  During  seven  years  I  have 
not  spent  more  than  $50  for  changes  and  repairs. 
We  struck  bed-rock  at  197  feet,  drilled  27  feet 
into  this  rock,  and  found  water  which  rose  to 
within  50  feet  of  the  surface  and  which  could 
not  be  materially  lowered  by  the  constant  use  of 
a  three-inch  power-pump.  The  water  was  milky 
white  for  three  days,  in  spite  of  much  pumping ; 
and  then,  and  ever  after,  it  ran  clear  and  sweet, 
with  a  temperature  of  54°  F.  Well  and  water 
being  satisfactory,  I  cheerfully  paid  the  well  man 
$448  for  the  job. 

Meantime  I  contracted  for  a  tank  twelve  by 
twelve  feet,  to  be  raised  thirty  feet  above  the 
well  on  eight  timbers,  each  ten  inches  square, 
well  bolted  and  braced,  for  $430,  —  I  to  put  in 
the  foundation.  This  consisted  of  eight  concrete 
piers,  each  five  feet  deep  in  the  clay,  three  feet 
square,  and  capped  at  the  level  of  the  ground 
with  a  limestone  two  feet  square  and  eight 
inches  thick.  These  piers  were  set  in  octagon 
form  around  the  well,  with  their  centres  seven 
feet  from  the  middle  of  the  bore,  making  the 
spread  of  the  framework  fourteen  feet  at  the 
ground  and  ten  at  the  platform.  The  founda- 
tion cost  $32.  A  Rider  eight-inch,  hot-air,  wood- 
burning,  pumping  engine  (with  a  two-inch  pipe 
leading  to  the  tank,  and  a  four-inch  pipe  from 
it),  filled  the  tank  quickly ;  and  it  was  surpris- 


BORING  FOE  WATER  33 

ing  to  see  how  little  fuel  it  consumed.  It  cost 
$215. 

I  have  now  to  confess  to  a  small  extravagance. 
I  contracted  with  a  carpenter  to  build  an  orna- 
mental tower,  fifty-five  feet  high,  twenty  feet 
across  at  the  base,  and  fifteen  feet  at  the  top, 
sheeted  and  shingled,  with  a  series  of  small 
windows  in  spiral  and  a  narrow  stairway  lead- 
ing to  a  balcony  that  surrounded  the  tower  on  a 
level  with  the  top  of  the  tank.  This  tower  cost 
$425 ;  but  it  was  not  all  extravagance,  because  a 
third  of  the  expense  would  have  been  incurred 
in  protecting  the  engine  and  making  the  tank 
frost-proof. 

To  distribute  the  water,  I  had  three  lines  of 
four-inch  pipe  leading  from  the  tank's  out-flow 
pipe.  One  of  these  went  250  feet  to  the  house, 
with  one-inch  branches  for  the  gardens  and  lawn  ; 
another  led  east  375  feet,  past  the  proposed  sites 
of  the  cottage,  the  farm-house,  the  dairy,  and 
other  buildings  in  that  direction ;  while  the 
third,  about  400  feet  long,  led  to  the  horse  barn 
and  the  other  projected  buildings.  From  near 
the  end  of  this  west  pipe  a  l|-inch  pipe  was 
carried  due  north  through  the  centre  of  the 
five-acre  lot  set  apart  for  the  hennery,  and  into 
the  fields  beyond.  This  pipe  was  about  700  feet 
long.  Altogether  I  used  1100  feet  of  four-inch, 
and  about  2200  feet  of  smaller  pipe,  at  a  total 
cost  of  $803.  All  water  pipes  were  placed  4^ 
feet  in  the  ground  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  frost, 


34  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  to  this  day  they  have  received  no  further 
attention. 

The  trenches  for  the  pipes  were  opened  by  a 
party  of  five  Italians  whom  a  railroad  friend 
found  for  me.  These  men  boarded  themselves, 
slept  in  the  barn,  and  did  the  work  for  seventy- 
five  cents  a  rod,  the  job  costing  me  $169. 

Opening  the  sewer  trenches  cost  a  little  more, 
for  they  were  as  deep  as  those  for  the  water,  and 
a  little  wider.  Eight  hundred  feet  of  main  sewer, 
a  three-hundred-foot  branch  to  the  house,  and 
short  branches  from  barns,  pens,  and  farm-houses, 
made  in  all  about  fourteen  hundred  feet,  which 
cost  183  to  open.  The  sewer  ended  in  the  stable 
yard  back  of  the  horse  barn,  in  a  ten-foot  catch- 
basin  near  the  manure  pit.  A  few  feet  from  this 
catch-basin  was  a  second,  and  beyond  this  a  third, 
all  of  the  same  size,  with  drain-pipes  connecting 
them  about  two  feet  below  the  ground.  These 
basins  were  closely  covered  at  all  times,  and  in 
winter  they  were  protected  from  frost  by  a 
thick  layer  of  coarse  manure.  They  were  placed 
near  the  site  of  the  manure  pit  for  convenience 
in  cleaning,  which  had  to  be  done  every  three 
months  for  the  first  one,  once  in  six  months  for 
the  second  and  rarely  for  the  third  ;  indeed,  the 
water  flowing  from  the  third  was  always  clear. 
This  waste  water  was  run  through  a  drain-pipe 
diagonally  across  the  northwest  corner  of  the  big 
orchard  to  an  open  ditch  in  the  north  lane. 
Opening  this  drain  of  forty  rods  cost  $30.    Later 


BORING  FOR  WATER  35 

I  carried  this  closed  drain  to  the  creek,  at  an  ad- 
ditional expense  of  $67.  The  connecting  of  the 
water  pipes  and  the  laying  of  the  sewer  was  done 
by  a  local  plumber  for  $50 ;  the  drain-pipe  and 
sewer-pipe  cost  $112 ;  and  the  three  catch-basins, 
bricked  up  and  covered  with  two-inch  plank, 
cost  $63.  The  filling  in  of  all  these  trenches  was 
done  by  my  own  men  with  teams  and  scrapers, 
and  should  not  be  figured  into  this  expense  ac- 
count. It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  while  this 
elaborate  water  system  was  being  installed,  no 
buildings  were  completed  and  but  few  were 
even  begun ;  the  big  house  was  not  finished  for 
more  than  a  year.  The  sites  of  all  the  buildings 
had  been  decided  on,  and  the  farm-house  and  the 
cottage  had  been  moved  and  remodelled,  by  the 
middle  of  October,  at  which  date  the  water  plant 
was  completed.  An  abundant  supply  of  good 
water  is  essential  to  the  comfort  of  man  and 
beast,  and  the  money  invested  in  securing  it  will 
pay  a  good  interest  in  the  long  run.  My  water 
plant  cost  me  a  lot  of  money,  $2758  ;  but  it  hasn't 
cost  me  $10  a  year  since  it  was  finished. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WE   TAKE    POSSESSION 

My  barn  was  full  of  horses,  but  none  of  them 
was  fit  for  farm  work  ;  so  I  engaged  a  veterinary 
surgeon  to  find  three  suitable  teams.  By  the 
25th  of  the  month  he  had  succeeded,  and  I  in- 
spected the  animals  and  found  them  satisfactory, 
though  not  so  smooth  and  smart-looking  as  I  had 
pictured  them.  When  I  compared  them,  some- 
what unfavorably,  with  the  teams  used  for  city 
trucks  and  delivery  wagons,  he  retorted  by  say- 
ing :  "  I  did  not  know  that  you  wanted  to  pay 
$1200  a  pair  for  your  horses.  These  six  horses 
will  cost  you  $750,  and  they  are  worth  it."  They 
were  a  sturdy  lot,  young,  well  matched,  not  so 
large  as  to  be  unwieldy,  but  heavy  enough  for 
almost  any  work.  The  lightest  was  said  to 
weigh  1375  pounds,  and  the  heaviest  not  more 
than  a  hundred  pounds  more.  Two  of  the  teams 
were  bay  with  a  sprinkling  of  white  feet,  while 
the  other  pair  was  red  roan,  and,  to  my  mind, 
the  best  looking. 

Four  of  these  horses  are  still  doing  service  on 
the  farm,  after  more  than  seven  years.  One  of 
the  bays  died  in  the  summer  of  '98,  and  one  of  the 

86 


WE  TAKE  POSSESSION  37 

roans  broke  his  stifle  during  the  following  win- 
ter and  had  to  be  shot.  The  bereaved  relicts  of 
these  two  pairs  have  taken  kindly  to  each  other, 
and  now  walk  soberly  side  by  side  in  double 
harness.  I  sometimes  think,  however,  that  I  see 
a  difference.  The  personal  relation  is  not  just 
as  it  was  in  the  old  union,  —  no  bickerings  or 
disagreements,  but  also  no  jokes  and  no  caresses. 
The  soft  nose  doesn't  seek  its  neighbor's  neck, 
there  is  no  resting  of  chin  on  friendly  withers 
while  half-closed  eyes  see  visions  of  cool  shades, 
running  brooks,  and  knee-deep  clover;  and  the 
urgent  whinney  which  called  one  to  the  other 
and  told  of  loneliness  when  separated  is  no  longer 
heard.  It  is  pathetic  to  think  that  these  good 
creatures  have  been  robbed  of  the  one  thing 
which  gave  color  to  their  lives  and  lifted  them 
above  the  dreary  treadmill  of  duty  for  duty's 
sake.  The  kindly  friendship  of  each  for  his 
yoke-fellow  is  not  the  old  sympathetic  compan- 
ionship, which  will  come  again  only  when  the 
cooling  breezes,  running  brooks,  and  knee-deep 
pastures  of  the  good  horse's  heaven  are  reached. 
A  horse  is  wonderfully  sensitive  for  an  animal 
of  his  size  and  strength.  He  is  timid  by  nature 
and  his  courage  comes  only  from  his  confidence 
in  man.  His  speed,  strength,  and  endurance  he 
will  willingly  give,  and  give  it  to  the  utmost,  if 
the  hand  that  guides  is  strong  and  gentle,  and 
the  voice  that  controls  is  firm,  confident,  and 
friendly.     Lack  of  courage  in  the  master  takes 


38  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

from  the  horse  his  only  chance  of  being  brave ; 
lack  of  steadiness  makes  him  indirect  and  futile  ; 
lack  of  kindness  frightens  him  into  actions  which 
are  the  result  of  terror  at  first,  and  which  be- 
come vices  only  by  mismanagement.  By  nature 
the  horse  is  good.  If  he  learns  bad  manners  by 
associating  with  bad  men,  we  ought  to  lay  the 
blame  where  it  belongs.  A  kind  master  will 
make  a  kind  horse  ;  and  I  have  no  respect  for  a 
man  who  has  had  the  privilege  of  training  a 
horse  from  colt-hood  and  has  failed  to  turn  out 
a  good  one.  Lack  of  good  sense,  or  cruelty,  is 
at  the  root  of  these  failures.  One  can  forgive 
lack  of  sense,  for  men  are  as  God  made  them  ; 
but  there  is  no  forgiveness  for  the  cruel :  cooling 
shades  and  running  brooks  will  not  be  prominent 
features  in  their  ultimate  landscapes. 

For  harness  and  farm  equipments,  tools  and 
machinery,  I  went  to  a  reliable  firm  which  made 
most  and  handled  the  rest  of  the  things  that  make 
a  well-equipped  farm.  It  is  best  to  do  much  of 
one's  business  through  one  house,  provided,  of 
course,  that  the  house  is  dependable.  You  be- 
come a  valued  customer  whom  it  is  important  to 
please,  you  receive  discounts,  rebates,  and  conces- 
sions that  are  worth  something,  and  a  community 
of  interest  grows  up  that  is  worth  much. 

My  first  order  to  this  house  was  for  three 
heavy  wagons  with  four-inch  tires,  three  sets  of 
heavy  harness,  two  ploughs  and  a  subsoiler,  three 
harrows  (disk,  spring  tooth,  and  flat),  a  steel  land- 


WE  TAKE  POSSESSION  39 

roller,  two  wheelbarrows,  an  iron  scraper,  fly  nets 
and  other  stable  equipment,  shovels,  spades,  hay 
forks,  posthole  tools,  a  hand  seeder,  a  chest  of 
tools,  stock-pails,  milk-pails  and  pans,  axes, 
hatchets,  saws  of  various  kinds,  a  maul  and 
wedges,  six  kegs  of  nails,  and  three  lanterns. 
The  total  amount  was  $488  ;  but  as  I  received 
five  per  cent  discount,  I  paid  only  $464.  The 
goods,  except  the  wagons  and  harnesses,  were  to 
go  by  freight  to  Exeter.  Polly  was  to  buy  the 
necessary  furnishings  for  the  men's  house,  the 
only  stipulation  I  made  being  that  the  beds 
should  be  good  enough  for  me  to  sleep  in.  On 
the  25th  of  July  she  showed  me  a  list  of  the 
things  which  she  had  purchased.  It  seemed  in- 
terminable ;  but  she  assured  me  that  she  had 
bought  nothing  unnecessary,  and  that  she  had 
been  very  careful  in  all  her  purchases.  As  I 
knew  that  Polly  was  in  the  habit  of  getting  the 
worth  of  her  money,  I  paid  the  bills  without 
more  ado.     The  list  footed  up  to  $495. 

Most  of  the  housekeeping  things  were  to  be 
delivered  at  the  station  in  Exeter ;  the  rest  were 
to  go  on  the  wagons.  On  the  afternoon  of  the 
30th  the  wagons  and  harnesses  were  sent  to 
the  stable  where  the  horses  had  been  kept,  and  the 
articles  to  go  in  these  wagons  were  loaded  for  an 
early  start  the  following  morning.  The  distance 
from  the  station  in  the  city  to  the  station  at 
Exeter  is  thirty  miles,  but  the  stable  is  three 
miles  from  the  city  station,  the  farm  two  and  a 


40  THE  EAT  OF  THE  LAND 

half  miles  from  Exeter  station,  and  the  wagon 
road  not  so  direct  as  the  railroad.  The  trip  to 
the  farm,  therefore,  could  not  be  much  less  than 
forty  miles,  and  would  require  the  best  part  of 
two  days.  The  three  men  whom  I  had  engaged 
reported  for  duty,  as  also  did  Thompson's  son, 
whom  we  are  to  know  hereafter  as  Zeb. 

Early  on  the  last  day  of  the  month  the  men 
and  teams  were  off,  with  cooked  provisions  for 
three  days.  They  were  to  break  the  journey 
twenty-five  miles  out,  and  expected  to  reach  the 
farm  the  next  afternoon.  Polly  and  I  wished  to 
see  them  arrive,  so  we  took  the  train  at  1  p.m. 
August  1st,  and  reached  Four  Oaks  at  2.30,  tak- 
ing with  us  Mrs.  Thompson,  who  was  to  cook 
for  the  men. 

Before  starting  I  had  telephoned  a  local  car- 
penter to  meet  me,  and  to  bring  a  mason  if  pos- 
sible. I  found  both  men  on  the  ground,  and 
explained  to  them  that  there  would  be  abundant 
work  in  their  lines  on  the  place  for  the  next  year 
or  two,  that  I  was  perfectly  willing  to  pay  a 
reasonable  profit  on  each  job,  but  that  I  did  not 
propose  to  make  them  rich  out  of  any  single 
contract. 

The  first  thing  to  do,  I  told  them,  was  to 
move  the  large  farm-house  to  the  site  already 
chosen,  about  two  hundred  yards  distant,  enlarge 
it,  and  put  a  first-class  cellar  under  the  whole. 
The  principal  change  needed  in  the  house  was  an 
additional  story  on  the  ell,  which  would  give  a 


WE  TAKE  POSSESSION  41 

chamber  eighteen  by  twenty-six,  with  closets  five 
feet  deep,  to  be  used  as  a  sleeping  room  for  the 
men.  I  intended  to  change  the  sitting  room, 
which  ran  across  the  main  house,  into  a  dining  and 
reading  room  twenty  feet  by  twenty-five,  and  to 
improve  the  shape  and  convenience  of  the  kitchen 
by  pantry  and  lavatory.  There  must  also  be  a 
well-appointed  bathroom  on  the  upper  floor,  and 
set  tubs  in  the  kitchen.  My  men  would  dig  the 
cellar,  and  the  mason  was  to  put  in  the  founda- 
tion walls  (twelve  inches  thick  and  two  feet 
above  ground),  the  cross  or  division  walls,  and  the 
chimneys.  He  was  also  to  put  down  a  first-class 
cement  floor  over  the  whole  cellar  and  ap- 
proach. The  house  was  to  be  heated  by  a  hot- 
water  system ;  and  I  afterward  let  this  job  to 
a  city  man,  who  put  in  a  satisfactory  plant  for 


We  had  hardly  finished  with  the  carpenter 
and  the  mason  when  we  saw  our  wagons  turn- 
ing into  the  grounds.  We  left  the  contractors 
to  their  measurements,  plans,  and  figures,  while 
we  hastened  to  turn  the  teams  back,  as  they 
must  go  to  the  cottage  on  the  north  forty.  The 
horses  looked  a  little  done  up  by  the  heat  and 
the  unaccustomed  journey,  but  Thompson  said  : 
«  They're  all  right,  —  stood  it  first-rate." 

The  cottage  and  out-buildings  furnished  scanty 
accommodations  for  men  and  beasts,  but  they 
were  all  that  we  could  provide.  I  told  the  men 
to  make  themselves  and  the  horses  as  comfort- 


42  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

able  as  they  could,  then  to  milk  the  cows  and 
feed  the  hogs,  and  call  it  a  day. 

While  the  others  were  unloading  and  getting 
things  into  shape,  I  called  Thompson  off  for  a 
talk.  "Thompson,"  I  said,  "you  are  to  have 
the  oversight  of  the  work  here  for  the  present, 
and  I  want  you  to  have  some  idea  of  my  general 
plan.  This  experiment  at  farming  is  to  last 
years.  We  won't  look  for  results  until  we  are 
ready  to  force  them,  but  we  are  to  get  ready  as 
soon  as  possible.  In  the  meantime,  we  will  have 
to  do  things  in  an  awkward  fashion,  and  not  al- 
ways for  immediate  effect.  We  must  build  the 
factory  before  we  can  turn  out  the  finished  prod- 
uct. The  cows,  for  instance,  must  be  cared  for 
until  we  can  dispose  of  them  to  advantage. 
Half  of  them,  I  fancy,  are  <  robber  cows,'  not 
worth  their  keep  (if  it  costs  anything  to  feed 
them),  and  we  will  certainly  not  winter  them. 
Keep  your  eye  on  the  herd,  and  be  able  to  tell 
me  if  any  of  them  will  pay.  Milk  them  care- 
fully, and  use  what  milk,  cream,  and  butter  you 
can,  but  don't  waste  useful  time  carting  milk  to 
market  —  feed  it  to  the  hogs  rather.  If  a  farmer 
or  a  milkman  will  call  for  it,  sell  what  you  have 
to  spare  for  what  he  will  give,  and  have  done 
with  it  quickly.  You  are  to  manage  the  hogs 
on  the  same  principle.  Fatten  those  which  are 
ready  for  it,  with  anything  you  find  on  the  place. 
We  will  get  rid  of  the  whole  bunch  as  soon  as 
possible.     You  see,  I  must  first  clear  the  ground 


WE  TAKE  POSSESSION  43 

before  I  can  build  my  factory.  Let  the  hens 
alone  for  the  present ;  you  can  eat  them  during 
the  winter. 

"Now,  about  the  crops.  The  hay  in  barns 
and  stacks  is  all  right ;  the  wheat  is  ready  for 
threshing,  but  it  can  wait  until  the  oats  are  also 
ready ;  the  corn  is  weedy,  but  it  is  too  late  to 
help  it,  and  the  potatoes  are  probably  covered 
with  bugs.  I  will  send  out  to-morrow  some 
Paris  green  and  a  couple  of  blow-guns.  There 
is  not  much  real  farm  work  to  do  just  now,  and 
you  will  have  time  for  other  things.  The  first 
and  most  important  thing  is  to  dig  a  cellar  to 
put  your  house  over;  your  comfort  depends  on 
that.  Get  the  men  and  horses  with  plough  and 
scraper  out  as  early  as  you  can  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  hustle.  You  have  nothing  to  do  but 
dig  a  big  hole  seven  feet  deep  inside  these  lines. 
I  count  on  you  to  keep  things  moving,  and  I  will 
be  out  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

The  mason  had  finished  his  estimate,  which 
was  $560.  After  some  explanations,  I  concluded 
that  it  was  a  fair  price,  and  agreed  to  it,  pro- 
vided the  work  could  be  done  promptly.  The 
carpenter  was  not  ready  to  give  me  figures ;  he 
said,  however,  that  he  could  get  a  man  to  move 
the  house  for  $120,  and  that  he  would  send  me 
by  mail  that  night  an  itemized  estimate  of  costs, 
and  also  one  from  a  plumber.  This  seemed  like 
doing  a  lot  of  things  in  one  afternoon,  so  Polly 
and  I  started  for  town  content. 


44  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"Those  people  can't  be  very  luxurious  out 
there,"  said  Polly,  "  but  they  can  have  good  food 
and  clean  beds.  They  have  all  out-doors  to 
breathe  in,  and  I  do  not  see  what  more  one  can 
ask  on  a  fine  August  evening,  do  you,  Mr.  Head- 
man ?  " 

I  could  think  of  a  few  things,  but  I  did  not 
mention  them,  for  her  first  words  recalled  some 
scenes  of  my  early  life  on  a  backwoods  farm : 
the  log  cabin,  with  hardly  ten  nails  in  it,  the 
latch-string,  the  wide-mouthed  stone-and-stick 
chimney,  the  spring-house  with  its  deep  crocks, 
the  smoke-house  made  of  a  hollow  gum-tree 
log,  the  ladder  to  the  loft  where  I  slept,  and 
where  the  snows  would  drift  on  the  floor  through 
the  rifts  in  the  split  clapboards  that  roofed  me 
over.  I  wondered  if  to-day  was  so  much  better 
than  yesterday  as  conditions  would  warrant  us 
in  expecting. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE    HORSE-AND-BUGGY   MAN 

August  3  found  me  at  Four  Oaks  in  the  early- 
afternoon.  A  great  hollow  had  been  dug  for  the 
cellar,  and  Thompson  said  that  it  would  take 
but  one  more  full  day  to  finish  it.  Piles  of 
material  gave  evidence  that  the  mason  was  alert, 
and  the  house-mover  had  already  dropped  his 
long  timbers,  winch,  and  chains  by  the  side  of 
the  farm-house. 

While  I  was  discussing  matters  with  Thomp- 
son, a  smart  trap  turned  into  the  lot,  and  a  well- 
set-up  young  man  sprang  out  of  the  stylish  run- 
about and  said,  — 

"  Dr.  Williams,  I  hear  you  want  more  help  on 
your  farm." 

« I  can  use  another  man  or  two  to  advantage, 
if  they  are  good  ones." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  brag,  but  I  guess  I  am 
a  good  one,  all  right.  I  ain't  afraid  of  work,  and 
there  isn't  much  that  I  can't  do  on  a  farm.  What 
wages  do  you  pay  ?  " 

I  told  him  my  plan  of  an  increasing  wage 
scale,  and  he  did  not  object.  "That  includes 
horse  keep,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  he. 

45 


46  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  'horse 
keep.'" 

"  Why,  most  of  the  men  on  farms  around  here 
own  a  horse  and  buggy,  to  use  nights,  Sundays, 
and  holidays,  and  we  expect  the  boss  to  keep 
the  horse.  This  is  my  rig.  It  is  about  the  best 
in  the  township ;  cost  me  $280  for  the  outfit." 

"See  here,  young  man,  this  is  another  speci- 
men of  farm  economics,  and  it  is  one  of  the 
worst  in  the  lot.  Let  me  do  a  small  example  in 
mental  arithmetic  for  you.  The  interest  on 
$280  is  $14  ;  the  yearly  depreciation  of  your  prop- 
erty, without  accidents,  is  at  least  $40 ;  horse-shoe- 
ing and  repairs,  $20 ;  loss  of  wages  (for  no  man 
will  keep  your  horse  for  less  than  $4  a  month), 
$48.  In  addition  to  this,  you  will  be  tempted 
to  spend  at  least  $5  a  month  more  with  a  horse 
than  without  one ;  that  is  $60  more.  You  are 
throwing  away  $182  every  year  without  adding 
$1  to  your  value  as  an  employee,  one  ounce  of 
dignity  to  your  employment,  or  one  foot  of  gain 
in  your  social  position,  no  matter  from  what 
point  you  view  it. 

"  Taking  it  for  granted  that  you  receive  $25 
a  month  for  every  month  of  the  year  (and  this 
is  admitting  too  much),  you  waste  more  than 
half  on  that  blessed  rig,  and  you  can  make  no 
provision  for  the  future,  for  sickness,  or  for  old 
age.  No,  I  will  not  keep  your  horse,  nor  will  I 
employ  any  man  whose  scheme  of  life  doesn't  run 
further  than  the  ownership  of  a  horse  and  buggy." 


THE  HORSE-AND-BTJGGY  MAN  47 

"  But  a  fellow  must  keep  up  with  the  proces- 
sion ;  he  must  have  some  recreation,  and  all  the 
men  around  here  have  rigs." 

"Not  around  Four  Oaks.  Recreation  is  all 
right,  but  find  it  in  ways  less  expensive.  Read, 
study,  cultivate  the  best  of  your  kind,  plan  for 
the  future  and  save  for  it,  and  you  will  not  lack 
for  recreation.  Sell  your  horse  and  buggy  for 
$200,  if  you  cannot  get  more,  put  the  money  at 
interest,  save  1200  out  of  your  wages,  and  by  the 
end  of  the  year  you  will  be  worth  over  8400  in 
hard  cash  and  much  more  in  self-respect.  You 
can  easily  add  $200  a  year  to  your  savings,  with- 
out missing  anything  worth  while ;  and  it  will 
not  be  long  before  you  can  buy  a  farm,  marry  a 
wife,  and  make  an  independent  position.  I  will 
have  no  horse-and-buggy  men  on  my  farm.  It's 
up  to  you." 

"  By  Jove !  I  believe  you  may  be  right.  It 
looks  like  a  square  deal,  and  I'll  play  it,  if  you'll 
give  me  time  to  sell  the  outfit." 

"  All  right,  come  when  you  can.  I'll  find  the 
work." 

That  day  being  Saturday,  I  told  Thompson  that 
I  would  come  out  early  Monday  morning,  bring- 
ing with  me  a  rough  map  of  the  place  as  I  had 
planned  it,  and  we  would  go  over  it  with  a  chain 
and  drive  some  outlining  stakes.  I  then  returned 
to  Exeter,  found  the  carpenter  and  the  plumber, 
and  accepted  their  estimates,  — 1630  and  $325, 
respectively.     The   farm-house   moved,  finished, 


48  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

furnished,  and  heated,  but  not  painted  or  papered, 
would  cost  $2630.  Painting,  papering,  window- 
shades,  and  odds  and  ends  cost  1275,  making  a 
total  of  $2905.  It  proved  a  good  investment,  for 
it  was  a  comfortable  and  convenient  home  for 
the  men  and  women  who  afterward  occupied  it. 
It  has  certainly  been  appreciated  by  its  occu- 
pants, and  few  have  left  it  without  regret.  We 
have  always  tried  to  make  it  an  object  lesson  of 
cleanliness  and  cheerfulness,  and  I  don't  think  a 
man  has  lived  in  it  for  six  months  without  being 
bettered.  It  seemed  a  good  deal  of  money  to 
put  on  an  old  farm-house  for  farm-hands,  but 
it  proved  one  of  the  best  investments  at  Four 
Oaks,  for  it  kept  the  men  contented  and  cheerful 
workers. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

WE   PLAT   THE    FARM 

On  Monday  I  was  out  by  ten  o'clock,  armed 
with  a  surveyor's  chain.  Thompson  had  pro- 
vided a  lot  of  stakes,  and  we  ran  the  lines,  more 
or  less  straight,  in  general  accord  with  my  sketch 
plan.  We  walked,  measured,  estimated,  and 
drove  stakes  until  noon.  At  one  o'clock  we 
were  at  it  again,  and  by  four  I  was  fit  to  drop 
from  fatigue.  Farm  work  was  new  to  me,  and 
I  was  soft  as  soft.  I  had,  however,  got  the 
general  lay  of  the  land,  and  could,  by  the  help 
of  the  plan,  talk  of  its  future  subdivisions 
by  numerals,  —  an  arrangement  that  afterward 
proved  definite  and  convenient.  We  adjourned 
to  the  shade  of  the  big  black  oak  on  the  knoll, 
and  discussed  the  work  in  hand. 

"  You  cannot  finish  the  cellar  before  to-morrow 
night,"  I  said,  "because  it  grows  slower  as  it 
grows  deeper;  but  that  will  be  doing  well 
enough.  I  want  you  to  start  two  teams  plough- 
ing Wednesday  morning,  and  keep  them  going 
every  day  until  the  frost  stops  them.  Let  Sam 
take  the  plough,  and  have  young  Thompson 
follow  with  the  subsoiler.  Have  them  stick  to 
k  49 


50  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

this  as  a  regular  diet  until  I  call  them  off. 
They  are  to  commence  in  the  wheat  stubble 
where  lots  six  and  seven  will  be.  I  am  going  to 
try  alfalfa  in  that  ground,  though  I  am  not  at 
all  sure  that  it  will  do  well,  and  the  soil  must 
be  fitted  as  well  as  possible.  After  it  has  had 
deep  ploughing  it  is  to  be  crossed  with  the  disk 
harrow ;  then  have  it  rolled,  disk  it  again,  and 
then  use  the  flat  harrow  until  it  feels  as  near  like 
an  ash  heap  as  time  will  permit.  We  must  get 
the  seed  in  before  September." 

"We  will  need  another  team  if  you  keep 
two  ploughing  and  one  on  the  harrow,"  said 
Thompson. 

"  You  are  right,  and  that  means  another  $400, 
but  you  shall  have  it.  We  must  not  stop  the 
ploughs  for  anything.  Numbers  10,  11,  14,  1,  2, 
3,  4,  5,  and  much  of  the  home  lot,  ought  to  be 
ploughed  before  snow  flies.  That  means  about 
160  acres,  —  80  odd  days  of  steady  work  for  the 
ploughmen  and  horses.  You  will  probably  find 
it  best  to  change  teams  from  time  to  time.  A 
little  variety  will  make  it  easier  for  them.  As 
soon  as  6  and  7  are  finished,  turn  the  ploughs 
into  the  40  acres  which  make  lots  1  to  5.  All 
that  must  be  seeded  to  pasture  grass,  for  it  will 
be  our  feeding-ground,  and  we'll  be  late  with  it 
if  we  don't  look  sharp. 

"  We  must  have  more  help,  by  the  way.  That 
horse-and-buggy  man,  Judson,  is  almost  sure  to 
come,  and  I  will  find  another.    Some  of  you  will 


WE  PLAT  THE  FARM  51 

have  to  bunk  in  the  hay  for  the  present,  for  I  am 
going  to  send  out  a  woman  to  help  your  wife. 
Six  men  can  do  a  lot  of  work,  but  there  is  a 
tremendous  lot  of  work  to  do.  We  must  fit  the 
ground  and  plant  at  least  three  thousand  apple 
trees  before  the  end  of  November,  and  we  ought  to 
fence  this  whole  plantation.  Speaking  of  fences 
reminds  me  that  I  must  order  the  cedar  posts. 
Have  you  any  idea  how  many  posts  it  will  take  to 
fence  this  farm  as  we  have  platted  it  ?  I  suppose 
not.  Well,  I  can  tell  you.  Twenty -two  hundred 
and  fifty  at  one  rod  apart,  or  1850  at  twenty  feet 
apart.  These  posts  must  be  six  feet  above  and 
three  feet  below  ground.  They  will  cost  eighteen 
cents  each.  That  item  will  be  $333,  for  there 
are  seven  miles  of  fence,  including  the  line  fence 
between  me  and  my  north  neighbor.  I  am  going 
to  build  that  fence  myself,  and  then  I  shall  know 
whose  fault  it  is  if  his  stock  breaks  through.  Of 
course  some  of  the  old  posts  are  good,  but  I  don't 
believe  one  in  twenty  is  long  enough  for  my 
purpose." 

"  What  do  you  buy  cedar  posts  for,  when  you 
have  enough  better  ones  on  the  place  ? "  asked 
Thompson. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Well,  down  in  the  wood  yonder  there's 
enough  dead  white  oak,  standing  or  on  the 
ground,  to  make  three  thousand,  nine-foot  posts, 
and  one  seasoned  white  oak  will  outlast  two 
cedars,  and  it  is  twice  as  strong." 


52  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

"  Well,  that's  good  !  How  much  will  it  cost 
to  get  them  out  ?  " 

"  About  five  cents  apiece.  A  couple  of  smart 
fellows  can  make  good  wages  at  that  price." 

"  Good.  We  will  save  thirteen  cents  each. 
They  will  cost  $93  instead  of  $333.  I  don't 
know  everything  yet,  do  I,  Thompson?" 

"  You  learn  easy,  I  reckon." 

"Keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  if  you 
find  any  one  who  can  do  this  job,  let  him  have 
it,  for  we  are  going  to  be  too  busy  with  other 
things  at  present.  It's  time  for  me  to  be  off.  I 
cannot  be  out  again  till  Thursday,  for  I  must 
find  a  man,  a  woman,  and  a  team  of  horses  and 
all  that  goes  with  them.  I'll  see  you  on  the  8th 
at  any  rate." 

I  was  dead  tired  when  I  reached  home ;  but 
there  wasn't  a  grain  of  depression  in  my  fatigue, 
—  rather  a  sense  of  elation.  I  felt  that  for  the 
first  time  in  thirty  years  real  things  were  doing 
and  I  was  having  a  hand  in  them.  The  fatigue 
was  the  same  old  tire  that  used  to  come  after  a 
hard  day  on  my  father's  farm,  and  the  sense  was 
so  suggestive  of  youth  that  I  could  not  help  feel- 
ing younger.  I  have  never  gotten  away  from  the 
faith  that  the  real  seed  of  life  lies  hidden  in  the 
soil ;  that  the  man  who  gives  it  a  chance  to 
germinate  is  a  benefactor,  and  that  things  done 
in  connection  with  land  are  about  the  only  real 
things.  I  have  grown  younger,  stronger,  happier, 
with  each  year  of  personal  contact  with  the  soil. 


WE  PLAT    THE  FARM  53 

I  am  thankful  for  seven  years  of  it,  and  look  for- 
ward to  twice  seven  more.  I  have  lost  the  soft- 
ness which  nearly  wilted  me  that  5th  day  of 
August,  and  with  the  softness  has  gone  twenty 
or  thirty  pounds  of  useless  flesh.  I  am  hard, 
active,  and  strong  for  a  man  of  sixty,  and  I  can 
do  a  fair  day's  work.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  prefer 
the  moderate  work  that  falls  to  the  lot  of  the 
Headman,  rather  than  the  more  strenuous  life  of 
the  husbandman ;  but  I  find  an  infinite  deal 
to  thank  the  farm  for  in  health  and  physical 
comfort. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HOUSE-CLEANING 

After  dinner  I  telephoned  the  veterinary  sur- 
geon that  I  wanted  another  team.  He  replied  that 
he  thought  he  knew  of  one  that  would  suit,  and 
that  he  would  let  me  know  the  next  day.  I  also 
telephoned  two  "  want  ads."  to  a  morning  paper, 
one  for  an  experienced  farm-hand,  the  other  for 
a  woman  to  do  general  housework  in  the  country. 
Polly  was  to  interview  the  women  who  applied, 
and  I  was  to  look  after  the  men.  That  night  I 
slept  like  a  hired  man. 

Out  of  the  dozen  who  applied  the  next  day 
I  accepted  a  Swede  by  the  name  of  Anderson. 
He  was  about  thirty,  tall,  thin,  and  nervous. 
He  did  not  fit  my  idea  of  a  stockman,  but  he 
looked  like  a  worker,  and  as  I  could  furnish  the 
work  we  soon  came  to  terms. 

A  few  words  more  about  Anderson.  He 
proved  a  worker  indeed.  He  had  an  insatiable 
appetite  for  work,  and  never  knew  when  to  quit. 
He  was  not  popular  at  the  farm,  for  he  was  too 
eager  in  the  morning  to  start  and  too  loath  in 
the  evening  to  stop.  His  unbridled  passion  for 
work  was  a  thing  to  be  deplored,  as  it  kept  him 

64 


HOUSE-CLEANING  65 

thin  and  nervous.  I  tried  to  moderate  this  pro- 
pensity, but  with  no  result.  Anderson  could  not 
be  trusted  with  horses,  or,  indeed,  with  animals 
of  any  kind,  for  he  made  them  as  nervous  as 
himself ;  but  in  all  other  kinds  of  work  he  was 
the  best  man  ever  at  Four  Oaks.  He  worked 
for  me  nearly  three  years,  and  then  suddenly  gave 
out  from  a  pain  in  his  left  chest  and  shortness 
of  breath.  I  called  a  physician  for  poor  Ander- 
son, and  the  diagnosis  was  dilatation  of  the  heart 
from  over-exercise. 

"A  rare  disease  among  farm-hands,  Dr.  Wil- 
liams," said  Dr.  High,  but  my  conscience  did  not 
fully  forgive  me.  I  asked  Anderson  to  stay  at 
the  farm  and  see  what  could  be  done  by  rest 
and  care.  He  declined  this,  as  well  as  my  offer 
to  send  him  to  a  hospital.  He  expressed  the 
liveliest  gratitude  for  kindnesses  received  and 
others  offered,  but  he  said  he  must  be  indepen- 
dent and  free.  He  had  nearly  $1200  in  a  sav- 
ings bank  in  the  city,  and  he  proposed  to  use  it, 
or  such  portion  of  it  as  was  necessary.  I  saw 
him  two  months  later.  He  was  better,  but  not 
able  to  work.  Hearing  nothing  from  him  for 
three  years,  a  year  ago  I  called  at  the  bank 
where  I  knew  he  had  kept  his  savings.  They 
had  sent  sums  of  money  to  him,  once  to  Rio 
Janeiro  and  once  to  Cape  Town.  For  two  years 
he  had  not  been  heard  from.  Whether  he  is  liv- 
ing or  dead  I  do  not  know.  I  only  know  that 
a  valuable  man  and  a  unique  farm-hand  has  dis- 


56  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

appeared.  I  never  think  of  Anderson  without 
wishing  I  had  been  more  severe  with  him, — 
more  persistent  in  my  efforts  to  wean  him  from 
his  real  passion.  Peace  to  his  ashes,  if  he  be 
ashes. 

That  same  day  I  telephoned  the  Agricultural 
Implement  Company  to  send  me  another  wagon, 
with  harness  and  equipment  for  the  team.  The 
veterinary  surgeon  reported  that  he  had  a  span 
of  mares  for  me  to  look  at,  but  I  was  too  much 
engaged  that  day  to  inspect  the  team,  and  prom- 
ised to  do  so  on  the  next. 

When  I  reached  home,  Polly  said  she  had 
found  nothing  in  the  way  of  a  general  house- 
work girl  for  the  country.  She  had  seen  nine 
women  who  wished  to  do  all  other  kinds  of 
work,  but  none  to  fit  her  wants. 

"  What  do  they  come  for  if  they  don't  want 
the  place  we  described  ?  Do  they  expect  we  are 
to  change  our  plans  of  life  to  suit  their  personal 
notions  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It's  hard  to  say  what  they  came  for  or  what 
they  want.  Their  ways  are  past  finding  out. 
We  will  put  in  another  <  ad.'  and  perhaps  have 
better  luck." 

Wednesday,  the  7th,  I  went  to  see  the  new 
team.  I  found  a  pair  of  flea-bitten  gray  Flemish 
mares,  weighing  about  twenty-eight  hundred 
pounds.  They  were  four  years  old,  short  of  leg 
and  long  of  body,  and  looked  fit.  The  surgeon 
passed  them  sound,  and  said  he  considered  them 


HOUSE-CLEANING  57 

well  worth  the  price  asked, — $300.  I  was  pleased 
with  the  team,  and  remembered  a  remark  I  had 
heard  as  a  boy  from  an  itinerant  Methodist  min- 
ister at  a  time  when  the  itinerant  minister  was 
supposed  to  know  all  there  was  to  know  about 
horse-flesh.  This  was  his  remark  :  "  There  was 
never  a  flea-bitten  mare  that  was  a  poor  horse." 
In  spite  of  its  ambiguity,  the  saying  made  an 
impression  from  which  I  never  recovered.  I  al- 
ways expected  great  things  from  flea-bitten  grays. 

The  team,  wagon,  harness,  etc.,  added  $395  to 
the  debit  account  against  the  farm.  Polly  se- 
cured her  girl, —  a  green  German  who  had  not 
been  long  enough  in  America  to  despise  the 
country. 

"  She  doesn't  know  a  thing  about  our  ways," 
said  Polly,  "  but  Mrs.  Thompson  can  train  her 
as  she  likes.  If  you  can  spend  time  enough  with 
green  girls,  they  are  apt  to  grow  to  your  liking." 

On  Thursday  I  saw  Anderson  and  the  new 
team  safely  started  for  the  farm.  Then  Polly, 
the  new  girl,  and  I  took  train  for  the  most  inter- 
esting spot  on  earth. 

Soon  after  we  arrived  I  lost  sight  of  Polly, 
who  seemed  to  have  business  of  her  own.  I 
found  the  mason  and  his  men  at  work  on  the 
cellar  wall,  which  was  almost  to  the  top  of  the 
ground.  The  house  was  on  wheels,  and  had  made 
most  of  its  journey.  The  house  mover  was  in  a 
rage  because  he  had  to  put  the  house  on  a  hoi 
instead  of  on  solid  ground,  as  he  had  expected. 


58  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

« I  have  sent  for  every  stick  of  timber  and  every 
cobbling  block  I  own,  to  get  this  house  over  that 
hole ;  there's  no  money  in  this  job  for  me ;  you 
ought  to  have  dug  the  cellar  after  the  house  was 
placed,"  said  he. 

I  made  friends  with  him  by  agreeing  to  pay 
$30  more  for  the  job.  The  house  was  safely 
placed,  and  by  Saturday  night  the  foundation 
walls  were  finished. 

Sam  and  Zeb  had  made  a  good  beginning  on 
the  ploughing,  the  teams  were  doing  well  for 
green  ones,  and  the  men  seemed  to  understand 
what  good  ploughing  meant.  Thompson  and 
Johnson  had  spent  parts  of  two  days  in  the 
potato  patches  in  deadly  conflict  with  the  bugs. 

"  We've  done  for  most  of  them  this  time," 
said  Thompson,  "but  we'll  have  to  go  over  the 
ground  again  by  Monday." 

The  next  piece  of  work  was  to  clear  the  north 
forty  (lots  1  to  5)  of  all  fences,  stumps,  stones, 
and  rubbish,  and  all  buildings  except  the  cottage. 
The  barn  was  to  be  torn  down,  and  the  horses 
were  to  be  temporarily  stabled  in  the  old  barn 
on  the  home  lot.  Useful  timbers  and  lumber 
were  to  be  snugly  piled,  the  manure  around  the 
barns  was  to  be  spread  under  the  old  apple  trees, 
which  were  in  lot  No.  1,  and  everything  not  use- 
ful was  to  be  burned.  "  Make  a  clean  sweep, 
and  leave  it  as  bare  as  your  hand,"  I  told 
Thompson.  "  It  must  be  ready  for  the  plough 
as  soon  as  possible," 


HOUSE-CLEANING  59 

Judson,  the  man  with  the  buggy,  reported  at 
noon.  He  came  with  bag  and  baggage,  but  not 
with  buggy,  and  said  that  he  came  to  stay. 

"Thompson,"  said  I,  "you  are  to  put  Judson 
in  charge  of  the  roan  team  to  follow  the  boys 
when  they  are  far  enough  ahead  of  him.  In  the 
meantime  he  and  the  team  will  be  with  you  and 
Johnson  in  this  house-cleaning.  By  to-morrow 
night  Anderson  and  the  new  team  will  get  in, 
and  they,  too,  will  help  on  this  job.  I  want  you 
to  take  personal  charge  of  the  gray  team, — 
neither  Johnson  nor  Anderson  is  the  right  sort 
to  handle  horses.  The  new  team  will  do  the 
trucking  about  and  the  regular  farm  work,  while 
the  other  three  are  kept  steadily  at  the  ploughs 
and  harrows." 

The  cleaning  of  the  north  forty  proved  a  long 
job.  Four  men  and  two  teams  worked  hard  for 
ten  days,  and  then  it  was  not  finished.  By  that 
time  the  ploughmen  had  finished  6  and  7,  and 
were  ready  to  begin  on  No.  1.  Judson,  with 
the  roans  and  harrows,  was  sent  to  the  twenty 
acres  of  ploughed  ground,  and  Zeb  and  his  team 
were  put  at  the  cleaning  for  three  days,  while 
Sam  ploughed  the  six  acres  of  old  orchard  with 
a  shallow-set  plough.  The  feeding  roots  of  these 
trees  would  have  been  seriously  injured  if  we  had 
followed  the  deep  ploughing  practised  in  the 
open.  By  August  24  about  two  hundred  loads 
of  manure  from  the  barn-yards,  the  accumulation 
of  years,  had  been  spread  under  the  apple  trees, 


60  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  I  felt  sure  it  was  well  bestowed.  Manuring, 
turning  the  sod,  pruning,  and  spraying,  ought  to 
give  a  good  crop  of  fruit  next  year. 

We  had  several  days  of  rain  during  this  time, 
which  interfered  somewhat  with  the  work,  but 
the  rains  were  gratefully  received.  I  spent  much 
of  my  time  at  Four  Oaks,  often  going  every  day, 
and  never  let  more  than  two  days  pass  without 
spending  some  hours  on  the  farm.  To  many  of 
my  friends  this  seemed  a  waste  of  time.  They 
said,  "  Williams  is  carrying  this  fad  too  far,  — 
spending  too  much  time  on  it." 

Polly  did  not  agree  with  them,  neither  did  I. 
Time  is  precious  only  as  we  make  it  so.  To  do 
the  wholesome,  satisfying  thing,  without  direct 
or  indirect  injury  to  others,  is  the  privilege  of 
every  man.  To  the  charge  of  neglecting  my 
profession  I  pleaded  not  guilty,  for  my  profession 
had  dismissed  me  without  so  much  as  saying 
"  By  your  leave."  I  was  obliged  to  change  my 
mode  of  life,  and  I  chose  to  be  a  producer  rather 
than  a  consumer  of  things  produced  by  others. 
I  was  conserving  my  health,  pleasing  my  wife, 
and  at  the  same  time  gratifying  a  desire  which 
had  long  possessed  me.  I  have  neither  apology 
to  make  nor  regret  to  record  ;  for  as  individuals 
and  as  a  family  we  have  lived  healthier,  happier, 
more  wholesome,  and  more  natural  lives  on  the 
farm  than  we  ever  did  in  the  city,  and  that  is 
saying  much. 


CHAPTER  X 

FENCED  IN 

On  the  26th,  when  I  reached  the  station  at 
Exeter,  I  found  Thompson  and  the  gray  team 
just  starting  for  the  farm  with  the  second  load 
of  wire  fencing.  I  had  ordered  fifty-six  rolls  of 
Page's  woven  wire  fence,  forty  rods  in  each  roll. 
This  fence  cost  me  seventy  cents  a  rod,  $224  a 
mile,  or  $1568  for  the  seven  miles.  Add  to  this 
$37  for  freight,  and  the  total  amounted  to  $1605 
for  the  wire  to  fence  my  land.  I  got  this  facer 
as  I  climbed  to  the  seat  beside  Thompson.  I 
did  not  blink,  however,  for  I  had  resolved  in  the 
beginning  to  take  no  account  of  details  until  the 
31st  day  of  December,  and  to  spend  as  much  on 
the  farm  in  that  time  as  I  could  without  being 
wasteful.  I  did  not  care  much  what  others 
thought.  I  felt  that  at  my  age  time  was  pre 
cious,  and  that  things  must  be  rushed  as  rapidly 
as  possible. 

I  was  glad  of  this  slow  ride  with  Thompson 
for  it  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  study  him.      J 
wondered  then  and  afterward  why  a  man  of  his 
general  intelligence,  industry,  and  special  knowl- 
edge of   the  details  of   farming,  should    fail  of 

61 


62  THE   FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

success  when  working  for  himself.  He  knew  ten 
times  as  much  about  the  business  as  I  did,  and 
yet  he  had  not  succeeded  in  an  independent 
position.  Some  quality,  like  broadness  of  mind 
or  directness  of  purpose,  was  lacking,  which 
made  him  incapable  of  carrying  out  a  plan,  no 
matter  how  well  conceived.  He  was  like  Hooker 
at  Chancellorsville,  whose  plan  of  campaign  was 
perfect,  whose  orders  were  carried  out  with 
exactness,  whose  army  fell  into  line  as  he  wished, 
and  whose  enemy  did  the  obvious  thing,  yet  who 
failed  terribly  because  the  responsibility  of  the 
ultimate  was  greater  than  he  could  bear.  As 
second  in  command,  or  as  corps  leader,  he  was 
superb ;  in  independent  command  he  was  a  dis- 
astrous failure. 

Thompson,  then,  was  a  Joe  Hooker  on  a  re- 
duced plane,  —  good  only  to  execute  another 
man's  plans.  Thompson  might  have  rebutted 
this  by  saying  that  I  too  might  prove  a  disas- 
trous failure ;  that  as  yet  I  had  shown  only 
ability  to  spend,  —  perhaps  not  always  wisely. 
Such  rebuttal  would  have  had  weight  seven 
years  ago,  but  it  would  not  be  accepted  to-day, 
for  I  have  made  my  campaign  and  won  my 
battle.  The  record  of  the  past  seven  years 
shows  that  I  can  plan  and  also  execute. 

Thompson  told  me  that  he  had  found  two 
woodsmen  (by  scouting  around  on  Sunday)  who 
were  glad  to  take  the  job  of  cutting  the  white- 
oak  posts  at  five  cents  each,  and  that  they  were 


FENCED  IN  63 

even  then  at  work ;  and  that  Nos.  6  and  7 
would  be  fitted  for  alfalfa  by  the  end  of  the 
week.  He  added  that  the  seed  ought  to  be  sown 
as  soon  thereafter  as  possible  and  that  a  liberal 
dressing  of  commercial  fertilizer  should  be  sown 
before  the  seed  was  harrowed  in. 

"  I  have  ordered  five  tons  of  fertilizer,"  I  said, 
«  and  it  ought  to  be  here  this  week.  Sow  four 
bags  to  the  acre." 

"  Four  bags,  —  eight  hundred  pounds  ;  that's 
pretty  expensive.  Costs,  I  suppose,  $35  to  $40  a 
ton." 

"No;  $24." 

«  How's  that  ?  " 

"  Friend  at  court ;  factory  price  ;  $120  for  five 
tons ;  $5  freight,  making  in  all  $125.  We  must 
use  at  least  eight  hundred  pounds  this  fall  and 
five  hundred  in  the  spring.  Alfalfa  is  an  experi- 
ment, and  we  must  give  it  a  show." 

"  Never  saw  anything  done  with  alfalfa  in  this 
region,  but  they  never  took  no  pains  with  it," 
said  Thompson. 

"  I  hope  it  will  grow  for  us,  for  it  is  great 
forage  if  properly  managed.  The  seed  will  be 
out  this  week,  and  you  had  best  sow  it  on 
Monday,  the  2d." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  seed  the  north  forty  ?  " 

"  Timothy,  red  top,  and  blue  grass ;  heavy 
seeding,  to  get  rid  of  the  weeds.  These  lots  will 
all  be  used  as  stock  lots.  Small  ones,  you  think, 
but  we  will  depend  almost  entirely  upon  soiling. 


64  THE  EAT  OF  THE  LAND 

I  hope  to  keep  a  fair  sod  on  these  lots,  and  they 
will  be  large  enough  to  give  the  animals  exercise 
and  keep  them  healthy.  I  hope  the  carpenter 
is  pushing  things  on  the  house.  I  want  to  get 
you  into  better  quarters  as  soon  as  possible,  and 
I  want  the  cottage  moved  out  of  the  way  before 
we  seed  the  lot." 

"  They're  pushing  things  all  right,  I  guess ; 
that  man  Nelson  is  a  hustler." 

When  I  reached  the  farm  I  found  Johnson  and 
Anderson  tearing  down  the  old  fence  that  was 
our  eastern  boundary.  None  of  the  posts  were 
long  enough  for  my  purpose,  so  all  were  con- 
signed to  the  woodpile. 

My  neighbor  on  the  north  owned  just  as  much 
land  as  I  did.  He  inherited  it  and  a  moderate 
bank  account  from  his  father,  who  in  turn  had 
it  from  his.  The  farm  was  well  kept  and  pro- 
ductive. The  house  and  barns  were  substantial 
and  in  good  repair.  The  owner  did  general 
farming,  raised  wheat,  corn,  and  oats  to  sell, 
milked  twenty  cows  and  sent  the  milk  to  the 
creamery,  sold  one  or  two  cows  and  a  dozen 
calves  each  year,  and  fattened  twenty  or  thirty 
pigs.  He  was  pretty  certain  to  add  a  few  hun- 
dred dollars  to  his  bank  account  at  the  end  of 
each  season.  He  kept  one  man  all  the  time  and 
two  in  summer.  He  was  a  bachelor  of  twenty- 
eight,  well  liked  and  good  to  look  upon  :  five  feet 
ten  inches  in  height,  broad  of  shoulder,  deep  of 
chest,  and  a  very  Hercules  in  strength.     His  face 


FENCED  IN  65 

was  handsome,  square-jawed  and  strong.  He 
was  good-natured,  but  easily  roused,  and  when 
angry  was  as  fierce  as  fire.  He  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  the  hardest  fighter  in  the  country. 
His  name  was  William  Jackson,  so  he  was  called 
Bill.  I  had  met  Jackson  often,  and  we  had 
taken  kindly  to  each  other.  I  admired  his  frank 
manner  and  sturdy  physique,  and  he  looked 
upon  me  as  a  good-natured  tenderfoot,  who 
might  be  companionable,  and  who  would  cer- 
tainly stir  up  things  in  the  neighborhood.  I 
went  in  search  of  him  that  afternoon  to  discuss 
the  line  fence,  a  full  mile  of  which  divided  our 
lands. 

"  I  want  to  put  a  fence  along  our  line  which 
nothing  can  get  over  or  under,"  I  said.  "  I  am 
willing  to  bear  the  expense  of  the  new  fence  if 
you  will  take  away  the  old  one  and  plough  eight 
furrows,  —  four  on  your  land  and  four  on  mine, 
—  to  be  seeded  to  grass  before  the  wires  are 
stretched.  We  ought  to  get  rid  of  the  weeds 
and  brush." 

"That  is  a  liberal  proposition,  Dr.  Williams, 
and  of  course  I  accept,"  said  Jackson ;  "  but  I 
ought  to  do  more.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do. 
You  are  planning  to  put  a  ring  fence  around 
your  land,  —  three  miles  in  all.  I'll  plough  the 
whole  business  and  fit  it  for  the  seed.  I'll  take 
one  of  my  men,  four  horses,  and  a  grub  plough, 
and  do  it  whenever  you  are  ready." 

This  settled  the  fence  matter  between  Jackson 


66  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  me.  The  men  who  cut  the  posts  took  the 
job  of  setting  them,  stretching  the  wire,  and 
hanging  the  gates,  for  1400.  This  included  the 
staples  and  also  the  stretching  of  three  strands 
of  barbed  wire  above  the  woven  wire ;  two  at 
six-inch  intervals  on  the  outside,  and  one  inside, 
level  with  the  top  of  the  post.  Thus  my  ring 
fence  was  six  feet  high  and  hard  to  climb.  I 
have  a  serious  dislike  for  trespass,  from  either 
man  or  beast,  and  my  boundary  fence  was  made 
to  discourage  trespassers.  I  like  to  have  those 
who  enter  my  property  do  so  by  the  ways  pro- 
vided, for  "whoso  climbeth  up  any  other  way, 
the  same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber." 

The  ring  fence  was  finished  by  the  middle  of 
October.  The  interior  fences  were  built  by  my 
own  men  during  soft  weather  in  winter  and 
spring ;  and,  as  I  had  already  paid  for  the  wire 
and  posts,  nothing  more  should  be  charged  to 
the  fence  account.  In  round  numbers  these 
seven  miles  of  excellent  fence  cost  me  12100. 
A  lot  of  money !  But  the  fence  is  there  to-day 
as  serviceable  as  when  it  was  set,  and  it  will 
stand  for  twice  seven  years  more.  One  hundred 
dollars  a  year  is  not  a  great  price  to  pay  for  the 
security  and  seclusion  which  a  good  fence  fur- 
nishes. There  was  no  need  of  putting  up  so 
much  interior  fence.  I  would  save  a  mile  or 
two  if  I  had  it  to  do  again ;  however,  I  do 
not  dislike  my  straight  lanes  and  tightly  fenced 
fields. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE   BUILDING   LINE 

Before  leaving  Four  Oaks  that  day  I  had  a 
long  conversation  with  Nelson,  the  carpenter.  I 
had  taken  his  measure,  by  inquiry  and  observa- 
tion, and  was  willing  to  put  work  into  his  hands 
as  fast  as  he  could  attend  to  it.  The  first  thing 
was  to  put  him  in  possession  of  my  plan  of  a 
building  line. 

Two  hundred  feet  south  of  the  north  line  of 
the  home  lot  a  street  or  lane  was  to  run  due  west 
from  the  gate  on  the  main  road.  This  was  to  be 
the  teaming  or  business  entrance  to  the  farm. 
Commencing  three  hundred  feet  from  the  east 
end  of  this  drive,  the  structures  were  to  be  as 
follows:  On  the  south  side,  first  a  cold-storage 
house,  then  the  farm-house,  the  cottage,  the  well, 
and  finally  the  carriage  barn  for  the  big  house. 
On  the  north  side  of  the  line,  opposite  the  ice- 
house, the  dairy-house  ;  then  a  square  with  a  small 
power-house  for  its  centre,  a  woodhouse,  a  horse 
barn  for  the  farm  horses,  a  granary  and  a  forage 
barn  for  its  four  corners.  Beyond  this  square  to 
the  west  was  the  fruit-house  and  the  tool-house 
—  the  latter  large  enough  to  house  all  the  farm 

67 


68  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

machinery  we  should  ever  need.  I  have  a  horror 
of  the  economy  that  leaves  good  tools  to  sky  and 
clouds  without  protection.  This  sketch  would 
not  be  worked  out  for  a  long  time,  as  few  of  the 
buildings  were  needed  at  once.  It  was  made  for 
the  sake  of  having  a  general  design  to  be  carried 
out  when  required ;  and  the  water  and  sewer 
system  had  been  built  with  reference  to  it. 

I  told  Nelson  that  a  barn  to  shelter  the  horses 
was  the  first  thing  to  build,  after  the  house  for 
the  men,  and  that  I  saw  no  reason  why  two  or 
even  three  buildings  should  not  be  in  process  of 
construction  at  the  same  time.  He  said  there 
would  be  no  difficulty  in  managing  that  if  he 
could  get  the  men  and  I  could  get  the  money. 
I  promised  to  do  my  part,  and  we  went  into 
details. 

I  wanted  a  horse  barn  for  ten  horses,  with 
shed  room  for  eight  wagons  in  front  and  a  small 
stable  yard  in  the  rear ;  also  a  sunken  manure 
vat,  ten  feet  by  twenty,  with  cement  walls  and 
floor,  the  vat  to  be  four  feet  deep,  two  feet  in 
the  ground  and  two  feet  above  it.  A  vat  like 
this  has  been  built  near  each  stable  where  stock 
is  kept,  and  I  find  them  perfectly  satisfactory. 
They  save  the  liquid  manure,  and  thus  add  fifty 
per  cent  to  the  value  of  the  whole.  Open  sheds 
protect  from  sun  and  rain,  and  they  are  emptied 
as  often  as  is  necessary,  regardless  of  season,  for 
I  believe  that  the  fields  can  care  for  manure  bet- 
ter than  a  compost  heap. 


THE  BUILDING  LINE  69 

I  also  told  Nelson  to  make  plans  and  estimates 
for  a  large  forage  barn,  75  by  150  feet,  25  feet 
from  floor  to  rafter  plate,  with  a  driving  floor 
through  the  length  of  it  and  mows  on  either  side. 
A  granary,  with  a  capacity  of  twenty  thousand 
bushels,  a  large  woodhouse,  and  a  small  house 
in  the  centre  of  this  group  where  the  fifteen 
horse-power  engine  could  be  installed,  completed 
my  commissions  for  that  day. 

Plans  for  these  structures  were  submitted  in 
due  time,  and  the  work  was  pushed  forward  as 
rapidly  as  possible.  The  horse  barn  made  a 
comfortable  home  for  ten  horses,  if  we  should 
need  so  many,  with  food  and  water  close  at 
hand  and  every  convenience  for  the  care  of  the 
animals  and  their  harness.  The  forage  barn  was 
not  expensive,  —  it  was  simply  to  shelter  a  large 
quantity  of  forage  to  be  drawn  upon  when 
needed.  The  woodhouse  was  also  inexpensive, 
though  large.  Wood  was  to  be  the  principal 
fuel  at  Four  Oaks,  since  it  would  cost  nothing, 
and  there  must  be  ample  shelter  for  a  large 
amount.  The  granary  would  have  to  be  built 
well  and  substantially,  but  it  was  not  large. 
The  power-house  also  was  a  small  affair.  The 
whole  cost  of  these  five  buildings  was  $8550. 
The  itemized  amount  is,  horse  barn,  $2000,  forage 
barn,  $3400,  granary,  $2200,  woodhouse, 
power-house,  $550. 


CHAPTER   XII 

CARPENTERS    QUIT   WORK 

On  Friday,  August  30,  I  was  obliged  to  go  to 
a  western  city  on  business  that  would  keep  me 
from  four  to  ten  days.  I  turned  my  face  away 
from  the  farm  with  regret.  I  could  hardly 
realize  that  I  had  spent  but  one  month  in  my 
new  life,  the  old  interests  had  slipped  so  far  be- 
hind. I  was  reluctant  to  lose  sight,  even  for  a 
week,  of  the  intensety  interesting  things  that 
were  doing  at  Four  Oaks.  Polly  said  she  would 
go  to  Four  Oaks  every  day,  and  keep  so  watch- 
ful an  eye  on  the  farm  that  it  could  not  pos- 
sibly get  away. 

"  You're  getting  a  little  bit  maudlin  about  that 
farm,  Mr.  Headman,  and  it  will  do  you  good  to 
get  away  for  a  few  days.  There  are  some  other 
things  in  life,  though  I  admit  they  are  few,  and 
we  are  not  to  forget  them.  I  am  up  to  my  ears 
in  plans  for  the  house  and  the  home  lot ;  but  I 
can't  quite  see  what  you  find  so  interesting  in 
tearing  down  old  barns  and  fences  and  turning 
over  old  sods." 

"  Every  heart  knoweth  its  own  sorrow,  Polly, 
and  I  have  my  troubles." 

70 


CARPENTERS  QUIT  WORK  71 

Friday  evening,  September  6,  I  returned  from 
the  west.     My  first  greeting  was,  — 

"  How's  the  farm,  Polly  ?  " 

"  It's  there,  or  was  yesterday ;  I  think  you'll 
find  things  running  smoothly." 

"  Have  they  sowed  the  alfalfa  and  cut  the 
oats  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

«  Finished  the  farm-house  ?  " 

"No,  not  quite,  but  the  painters  are  there,  and 
Nelson  has  commenced  work  on  two  other 
buildings." 

"  What  time  can  I  breakfast  ?  I  must  catch 
the  8.10  train,  and  spend  a  long  day  where  things 
are  doing." 

Things  were  humming  at  Four  Oaks  when  I 
arrived.  Ten  carpenters  besides  Nelson  and  his 
son  were  pounding,  sawing,  and  making  confu- 
sion in  all  sorts  of  ways  peculiar  to  their  kind. 
The  ploughmen  were  busy.  Thompson  and  the 
other  two  men  were  shocking  oats.  I  spent 
the  day  roaming  around  the  place,  watching 
the  work  and  building  castles.  I  went  to  the 
alfalfa  field  to  see  if  the  seed  had  sprouted. 
Disappointed  in  this,  I  wandered  down  to  the 
brook  and  planned  some  abridgment  of  its 
meanderings.  It  could  be  straightened  and  kept 
within  bounds  without  great  expense  if  the  work 
were  done  in  a  dry  season.  Polly  had  asked  for 
a  winding  brook  with  a  fringe  of  willows  and 
dogwood,  but  I  would  not  make  this  concession 


72  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

to  her  esthetic  taste.  This  farm  land  must  be 
useful  to  the  sacrifice  of  everything  else.  A 
winding  brook  would  be  all  right  on  the  home 
lot,  if  it  could  be  found,  but  not  on  the  farm.  A 
straight  ditch  for  drainage  was  all  that  I  would 
permit,  and  I  begrudged  even  that.  No  waste 
land  in  the  cultivated  fields,  was  my  motto.  I 
had  threshed  this  out  with  Polly  and  she  had 
yielded,  after  stipulating  that  I  must  keep  my 
hands  off  the  home  forty. 

Over  in  the  woods  I  found  two  men  at  work 
splitting  fence  posts.  They  seemed  expert,  and 
I  asked  them  how  many  they  could  make  in  a 
day. 

"From  90  to  125,  according  to  the  timber. 
But  we  must  work  hard  to  make  good  wages." 

"  That  applies  to  other  things  besides  post- 
splitting,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

Closer  inspection  of  the  wood  lot  gratified  me 
exceedingly.  Little  had  been  done  for  it  except 
by  Nature,  but  she  had  worked  with  so  prodigal 
a  hand  that  it  showed  all  kinds  of  possibilities, 
both  for  beauty  and  for  utility.  Before  leaving 
the  place,  I  had  a  little  talk  with  Nelson. 

"  Everything  is  going  on  nicely,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  ten  carpenters,  and  they  are  a  busy  lot.  If 
I  can  only  hold  them  on  to  the  job,  things  will 
go  well." 

»  What's  the  matter  ?    Can't  you  hold  them  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  but  there  is  a  hoisters'  strike  on 
in  the  city,  and  the  carpenters  threaten  to  go 


CARPENTERS  QUIT  WORK  73 

out  in  sympathy.  I  hope  it  won't  reach  us,  but 
I'm  afraid  it  will." 

"  What  will  you  do  if  the  men  go  out  ?  " 

"  Do  the  best  I  can.  I  can  get  two  non-union 
men  that  I  know  of.  They  would  like  to  be  on 
this  job  now,  but  these  men  won't  permit  it. 
My  son  is  a  full  hand,  so  there  will  be  four  of 
us ;  but  it  will  be  slow  work." 

"  See  here,  Nelson,  I  can't  have  this  work  slack 
up.  We  haven't  time.  Cold  weather  will  be 
on  before  we  know  it.  I'm  going  to  take  this 
bull  by  the  horns.  I'll  advertise  for  carpenters 
in  the  Sunday  papers.  Some  of  those  who  apply 
will  be  non-union  men,  and  I'll  hold  them  over 
for  a  few  days  until  we  see  how  the  cat  jumps. 
If  it  comes  to  the  worst,  we  can  get  some  men 
to  take  the  place  of  Thompson  and  Sam,  who 
are  carpenters,  and  set  them  at  the  tools.  I  will 
not  let  this  work  stop,  strike  or  no  strike." 

"  If  you  put  non-union  men  on  you  will  have 
to  feed  and  sleep  them  on  the  place.  The  union 
will  make  it  hot  for  them." 

"I  will  take  all  kinds  of  care  of  every  man 
who  gives  me  honest  work,  you  may  be  sure." 

When  I  returned  to  town  I  sent  this  "  ad."  to 
two  papers :  "  Wanted  :  Ten  good  carpenters 
to  go  to  the  country."  The  Sunday  papers  gave 
a  lurid  account  of  the  sentiment  of  the  Carpen- 
ters' Union  and  its  sympathetic  attitude  toward 
the  striking  hoisters.  The  forecast  was  that 
there  would  not  be  a  nail  driven  if  the  strike 

\ 


74  THE   FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

were  not  settled  by  Tuesday  night.  It  seemed 
that  I  had  not  moved  a  day  too  soon.  On  Mon- 
day thirty-seven  carpenters  applied  at  my  office. 
Most  of  them  had  union  tickets  and  were  not 
considered.  Thirteen,  however,  were  not  of  the 
union,  and  they  were  investigated.  I  hired  seven 
on  these  conditions:  wages  to  begin  the  next 
day,  Tuesday,  and  to  continue  through  the  week, 
work  or  no  work.  If  the  strike  was  ordered,  I 
would  take  the  men  to  the  country  and  give 
them  steady  work  until  my  jobs  were  finished. 
They  agreed  to  these  conditions,  and  were  re- 
quested to  report  at  my  office  on  Wednesday 
morning  to  receive  two  days'  pay,  and  perhaps 
to  be  set  to  work. 

I  did  not  go  to  the  farm  until  Tuesday  after- 
noon. There  was  no  change  in  the  strike,  and 
no  reason  to  expect  one.  The  noon  papers  said 
that  the  Carpenters'  Union  would  declare  a  sym- 
pathetic strike  to  be  on  from  Wednesday  noon. 

On  reaching  Four  Oaks  I  called  Nelson  aside  and 
told  him  how  the  land  lay  and  what  I  had  done. 

"  I  want  you  to  call  the  men  together,"  said  I, 
"  and  let  me  talk  to  them.  I  must  know  just 
how  we  stand  and  how  they  feel." 

Nelson  called  the  men,  and  I  read  the  reports 
from  two  papers  on  the  impending  strike  order. 

"  Now,  men,"  said  I,  "  we  must  look  this 
matter  in  the  face  in  a  businesslike  fashion. 
You  have  done  good  work  here ;  your  boss  is 
satisfied,  and  so  am  I.     It  would  suit  us  down 


CARPENTERS  QUIT  WORK  75 

to  the  ground  if  you  would  continue  on  until  all 
these  jobs  are  finished.  We  can  give  you  a  lot 
of  work  for  the  best  part  of  the  year.  You  are 
sure  of  work  and  sure  of  pay  if  you  stay  with 
us.  That  is  all  I  have  to  say  until  you  have 
decided  for  yourselves  what  you  will  do  if  the 
strike  is  ordered." 

I  left  the  men  for  a  short  time,  while  they 
talked  things  over.  It  did  not  take  them  long 
to  decide. 

"  We  must  stand  by  the  union,"  said  the 
spokesman,  "but  we'll  be  damned  sorry  to  quit 
this  job.  You  see,  sir,  we  can't  do  any  other 
way.  We  have  to  be  in  the  union  to  get  work, 
and  we  have  to  do  as  the  union  says  or  we  will 
be  kicked  out.  It  is  hard,  sir,  not  to  do  a  hit  of 
a  hammer  for  weeks  or  months  with  a  family  on 
one's  hands  and  winter  coming ;  but  what  can  a 
man  do  ?  We  don't  see  our  way  clear  in  this 
matter,  but  we  must  do  as  the  union  says." 

"  I  see  how  you  are  fixed,"  said  I,  "  and  I  am 
mighty  sorry  for  you.  I  am  not  going  to  rail 
against  unions,  for  they  may  have  done  some 
good  ;  but  they  work  a  serious  wrong  to  the  man 
with  a  family,  for  he  cannot  follow  them  without 
bringing  hardships  upon  his  dependent  ones.  It 
is  not  fair  to  yoke  him  up  with  a  single  man 
who  has  no  natural  claims  to  satisfy,  no  mouth  to 
feed  except  his  own ;  but  I  will  talk  business. 

"  You  will  be  ordered  out  to-morrow  or  next 
day,  and  you  say  you  will  obey  the  order.     You 


76  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

have  an  undoubted  right  to  do  so.  A  man  is 
not  a  slave,  to  be  made  to  work  against  his  will ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  is  he  not  a  slave  if  he  is 
forced  to  quit  against  his  will  ?  Freedom  of 
action  in  personal  matters  is  a  right  which  wise 
men  have  fought  for  and  for  which  wise  men 
will  always  fight.  Do  you  find  it  in  the  union  ? 
What  shall  I  do  when  you  quit  work  ?  How 
long  are  you  going  to  stay  out?  What  will 
become  of  my  interests  while  you  are  following 
the  lead  of  your  bell-wethers  ?  Shall  my  work 
stop  because  you  have  been  called  out  for  a  holi- 
day ?  Shall  the  weeds  grow  over  these  walls 
and  my  lumber  rot  while  you  sit  idly  by  ?  Not 
by  a  long  sight !  You  have  a  perfect  right  to 
quit  work,  and  I  have  a  perfect  right  to  continue. 
"  The  rights  which  we  claim  for  ourselves  we 
must  grant  to  others.  One  man  certainly  has  as 
defensible  a  right  to  work  as  another  man  has  to 
be  idle.  In  the  legitimate  exercise  of  personal 
freedom  there  is  no  effort  at  coercion,  and  in  this 
case  there  shall  be  none.  If  you  choose  to  quit, 
you  will  do  so  without  let  or  hindrance  from  me ; 
but  if  you  quit,  others  will  take  your  places 
without  let  or  hindrance  from  you.  You  will 
be  paid  in  full  to-night.  When  you  leave,  you 
must  take  your  tools  with  you,  that  there  may  be 
no  excuse  for  coming  back.  When  you  leave 
the  place,  the  incident  will  be  closed  so  far  as 
you  and  I  are  concerned,  and  it  will  not  be 
opened  unless  I  find  some  of  you  trying  to  inter- 


CARPENTERS  QUIT  WORK  77 

fere  with  the  men  I  shall  engage  to  take  your 
places.  I  think  you  make  a  serious  mistake  in 
following  blind  leaders  who  are  doing  you  mate- 
rial injury,  for  sentimental  reasons  ;  but  you  must 
decide  this  for  yourselves.  If,  after  sober  thought, 
any  of  you  feel  disposed  to  return,  you  can  get  a 
job  if  there  is  a  vacancy  ;  but  no  man  who  works 
for  me  during  this  strike  will  be  displaced  by  a 
striker.  You  may  put  that  in  your  pipes  and 
smoke  it.     Nelson  will  pay  you  off  to-night." 

The  strike  was  ordered  for  Wednesday.  On 
the  morning  of  that  day  the  seven  carpenters 
whom  I  had  engaged  arrived  at  my  office  ready 
for  work.  I  took  them  to  the  station  and  started 
for  Four  Oaks.  At  a  station  five  miles  from 
Exeter  we  quitted  the  train,  hired  two  carriages, 
and  were  driven  to  the  farm  without  passing 
through  the  village. 

We  arrived  without  incident,  the  men  had  their 
dinners,  and  at  one  o'clock  the  hammers  and 
saws  were  busy  again.  We  had  lost  but  one 
half  day.  The  two  non-union  men  whom  Nelson 
had  spoken  of  were  also  at  work,  and  three  days 
later  the  spokesman  of  the  strikers  threw  up  his 
card  and  joined  our  force.  We  had  no  serious 
trouble.  It  was  thought  wise  to  keep  the  new 
men  on  the  place  until  the  excitement  had  passed, 
and  we  had  to  warn  some  of  the  old  ones  off  two 
or  three  times,  but  nothing  disagreeable  happened, 
and  from  that  day  to  this  Four  Oaks  has  remained 
non-unionized. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

PLANNING    FOR    THE   TREES 

The  morning  of  September  17th  a  small  frost 
fell,  —  just  enough  to  curl  the  leaves  of  the  corn 
and  show  that  it  was  time  for  it  to  be  laid  by. 
Thompson,  Johnson,  Anderson,  and  the  two  men 
from  the  woods,  who  were  diverted  from  their 
post-splitting  for  the  time  being,  went  gayly  to 
the  corn  fields  and  attacked  the  standing  grain 
in  the  old-fashioned  way.  This  was  not  economi- 
cal ;  but  I  had  no  corn  reaper,  and  there  was  none 
to  hire,  for  the  frost  had  struck  us  all  at  the  same 
time.  The  five  men  were  kept  busy  until  the  two 
patches — about  forty-three  acres — were  in  shock. 
This  brought  us  to  the  24th.  In  the  meantime 
the  men  and  women  moved  from  the  cottage  to 
the  more  commodious  farm-house.  Polly  had 
found  excuses  for  spending  $100  more  on  the 
furnishings  of  this  house,  —  two  beds  and  a  lot 
of  other  things.  Sunday  gave  the  people  a 
chance  to  arrange  their  affairs,  and  they  cer- 
tainly appreciated  their  improved  surroundings. 

The  cottage  was  moved  to  its  place  on  the 
line,  and  the  last  of  the  seeding  on  the  north 
forty  was  done.  Ten  tons  of  fertilizer  were 
sown  on  this  forty-acre  tract  (at  a  cost  of  $250), 

78 


PLANNING  FOR  THE  TREES  79 

and  it  was  then  left  to  itself,  not  to  be  trampled 
over  by  man  or  beast,  except  for  the  stretching 
of  fences  or  for  work  around  some  necessary 
buildings,  until  the  middle  of  the  following 
May. 

We  did  not  sow  any  wheat  that  year,  —  there 
was  too  much  else  to  be  done  of  more  impor- 
tance. There  is  not  much  money  in  wheat-farm- 
ing unless  it  be  done  on  a  large  scale,  and  I  had 
no  wish  to  raise  more  than  I  could  feed  to  advan- 
tage. Wheat  was  to  be  a  change  food  for  my 
fowls ;  but  just  then  I  had  no  fowls  to  feed,  and 
there  were  more  than  two  hundred  bushels  in 
stacks  ready  for  the  threshers,  which  I  could 
hold  for  future  hens. 

The  ploughmen  were  now  directed  to  com- 
mence deep  ploughing  on  No.  14,  —  the  forty  acres 
set  apart  for  the  commercial  orchard.  This  tract 
of  land  lay  well  for  the  purpose.  Its  surface 
was  nearly  smooth,  with  a  descent  to  the  west 
and  southwest  that  gave  natural  drainage.  I 
have  been  informed  that  an  orchard  would  do 
better  if  the  slope  were  to  the  northeast.  That 
may  be  true,  but  mine  has  done  well  enough 
thus  far,  and,  what  is  more  to  the  point,  I  had 
no  land  with  a  northeast  slope.  The  surface 
soil  was  thin  and  somewhat  impoverished,  but 
the  subsoil  was  a  friable  clay  in  which  almost 
anything  would  grow  if  it  was  properly  worked 
and  fed.  It  was  my  desire  to  make  this  square 
block  of  forty  acres  into  a  first-class  apple  orchard 


80  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

for  profit.  Seven  years  from  planting  is  almost 
too  soon  to  decide  how  well  I  have  succeeded, 
but  the  results  attained  and  the  promises  for  the 
future  lead  me  to  believe  that  there  will  be  no 
failure  in  my  plan. 

The  three  essentials  for  beginning  such  an 
orchard  are :  prepare  the  land  properly,  get  good 
stock  (healthy  and  true  to  name),  and  plant  it 
well.  I  could  do  no  more  this  year  than  to 
plough  deep,  smooth  the  surface,  and  plant  as 
well  as  I  knew  how.  Increased  fertility  must 
come  from  future  cultivation  and  top  dressing. 
The  thing  most  prominent  in  my  plan  was  to 
get  good  trees  well  placed  in  the  ground  before 
cold  weather  set  in.  At  my  time  of  life  I  could 
not  afford  to  wait  for  another  autumn,  or  even 
until  spring.  I  had,  and  still  have,  the  opinion 
that  a  fall-planted  tree  is  nearly  six  months  in 
advance  of  one  planted  the  following  spring. 
Of  course  there  can  be  no  above-ground  growth 
during  that  time,  but  important  things  are  being 
done  below  the  surface.  The  roots  find  time  to 
heal  their  wounds  and  to  send  out  small  searchers 
after  food,  which  will  be  ready  for  energetic 
work  as  soon  as  the  sun  begins  to  warm  the  soil. 
The  earth  settles  comfortably  about  these  roots 
and  is  moulded  to  fit  them  by  the  autumn  rains. 
If  the  stem  is  well  braced  by  a  mound  of  earth, 
and  if  a  thick  mulch  is  placed  around  it,  much 
will  be  done  below  ground  before  deep  frosts 
interrupt  the  work ;  and  if,  in  the  early  spring, 


PLANNING  FOR  THE  TREES  81 

the  mulch  and  mound  are  drawn  back,  the  sun's 
influence  will  set  the  roots  at  work  earlier  by 
far  than  a  spring  tree  could  be  planted. 

Other  reasons  for  fall  planting  are  that  the 
weather  is  more  settled,  the  ground  is  more 
manageable,  help  is  more  easily  secured,  and 
the  nurserymen  have  more  time  for  filling  your 
order.  Any  time  from  October  15  until  Decem- 
ber 10  will  answer  in  our  climate,  but  early 
November  is  the  best.  I  had  decided  to  plant 
the  trees  in  this  orchard  twenty-five  feet  apart 
each  way.  In  the  forty  acres  there  would  be 
fifty-two  rows,  with  fifty-two  trees  in  each  row,  — 
or  twenty-seven  hundred  in  all.  I  also  decided  to 
have  but  four  varieties  of  apples  in  this  orchard, 
and  it  was  important  that  they  should  possess  a 
number  of  virtues.  They  must  come  into  early 
bearing,  for  I  was  too  old  to  wait  patiently  for 
slow-growing  trees ;  they  must  be  of  kinds  most 
dependable  for  yearly  crops,  for  I  had  no  respect 
for  off  years ;  and  they  must  be  good  enough  in 
color,  shape,  and  quality  to  tempt  the  most  fas- 
tidious market.  I  studied  catalogues  and  talked 
with  pomologists  until  my  mind  was  nearly 
unsettled,  and  finally  decided  upon  Jonathan, 
Wealthy,  Rome  Beauty,  and  Northwestern  Green- 
ing, —  all  winter  apples,  and  all  red  but  the  last. 
I  was  helped  in  my  decision,  so  far  as  the  Jona- 
thans and  Rome  Beauties  were  concerned,  by  the 
discovery  that  more  than  half  of  the  old  orchard 
was  composed  of  these  varieties. 


82  THE  FAT  OF  THE   LAND 

There  is  little  question  as  to  the  wisdom  of 
planting  trees  of  kinds  known  to  have  done  well 
in  your  neighborhood.  They  are  just  as  likely 
to  do  well  by  you  as  by  your  neighbor.  If  the 
fruit  be  to  your  liking,  you  can  safely  plant,  for 
it  is  no  longer  an  experiment ;  some  one  else  has 
broken  that  ground  for  you. 

In  casting  about  for  a  reliable  nurseryman  to 
whom  to  trust  the  very  important  business  of 
supplying  me  with  young  trees,  I  could  not  long 
keep  my  attention  diverted  from  Rochester,  New 
York.  Perhaps  the  reason  was  that  as  a  child  I 
had  frequently  ridden  over  the  plank  road  from 
Henrietta  to  Rochester,  and  my  memory  recalled 
distinctly  but  three  objects  on  that  road,  —  the 
house  of  Frederick  Douglass,  Mount  Hope  Ceme- 
tery, and  a  nursery  of  young  trees.  Everything 
else  was  obscure.  I  fancy  that  in  fifty  years  the 
Douglass  house  has  disappeared,  but  Mount  Hope 
Cemetery  and  the  tree  nursery  seem  to  mock  at 
time.  The  soil  and  climate  near  Rochester  are 
especially  favorable  to  the  growing  of  young 
trees,  and  my  order  went  to  one  of  the  many 
reliable  firms  engaged  in  this  business.  The 
order  was  for  thirty-four  hundred  trees,  — 
twenty-seven  hundred  for  the  forty-acre  orchard 
and  seven  hundred  for  the  ten  acres  farthest  to 
the  south  on  the  home  lot.  Polly  had  consented 
to  this  invasion  of  her  domain,  for  reasons.  She 
said :  — 

"It  is  a  long  way  off,  rather  flat  and  unin- 


PLANNING  FOR  THE  TREES  83 

teresting,  and  I  do  not  see  exactly  how  to  treat 
it.  Apple  trees  are  pretty  at  most  times,  and 
picturesque  when  old.  You  can  put  them  there, 
if  you  will  seed  the  ground  and  treat  it  as  part 
of  the  lawn.  I  hate  your  old  straight  rows,  but 
I  suppose  you  must  have  them." 

"  Yes,  I  guess  I  shall  have  to  have  straight 
rows,  but  I  will  agree  to  the  lawn  plan  after  the 
third  year.  You  must  give  me  a  chance  to  culti- 
vate the  land  for  three  years." 

Your  tree-man  must  be  absolutely  reliable. 
You  have  to  trust  him  much  and  long.  Not 
only  do  you  depend  upon  him  to  send  you  good 
and  healthy  stock,  but  you  must  trust,  for  five 
years  at  least,  that  this  stock  will  prove  true  to 
name.  The  most  discouraging  thing  which  can 
befall  a  horticulturist  is  to  find  his  new  fruit 
false  to  purchase  labels.  After  wait,  worry,  and 
work  he  finds  that  he  has  not  what  he  expected, 
and  that  he  must  begin  over  again.  It  is  cold 
comfort  for  the  tree-man  to  make  good  his 
guarantee  to  replace  all  stock  found  untrue, 
for  five  years  of  irreplaceable  time  has  passed. 
When  you  have  spent  time,  hope,  and  expecta- 
tion as  well  as  money,  looking  for  results  which 
do  not  come,  your  disappointment  is  out  of  all 
proportion  to  your  financial  loss,  be  that  never 
so  great.  In  the  best-managed  nurseries  there 
will  be  mistakes,  but  the  better  the  management 
the  fewer  the  mistakes.  Pay  good  prices  for 
young  trees,  and  demand   the  best.      There  is 


84  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

no  economy  in  cheap  stock,  and  the  sooner  the 
farmer  or  fruit-grower  comprehends  this  fact,  the 
better  it  will  be  for  him.  I  ordered  trees  of 
three  years'  growth  from  the  bud,  —  this  would 
mean  four-year-old  roots.  Perhaps  it  would  have 
been  as  well  to  buy  smaller  ones  (many  wise 
people  have  told  me  so),  but  I  was  in  such  a 
hurry  !  I  wanted  to  pick  apples  from  these  trees 
at  the  first  possible  moment.  I  argued  that  a 
sturdy  three-year-old  would  have  an  advantage 
over  its  neighbor  that  was  only  two.  However 
small  this  advantage,  I  wanted  it  in  my  business 
—  my  business  being  to  make  a  profitable  farm 
in  quick  time.  The  ten  acres  of  the  home  lot 
were  to  be  planted  with  three  hundred  Yellow 
Transparent,  three  hundred  Duchess  of  Olden- 
burg, and  one  hundred  mixed  varieties  for  home 
use.  I  selected  the  Transparent  and  the  Duchess 
on  account  of  their  disposition  to  bear  early,  and 
because  they  are  good  sellers  in  a  near  market, 
and  because  a  fruit-wise  friend  was  making 
money  from  an  eight-year-old  orchard  of  three 
thousand  of  these  trees,  and  advised  me  not  to 
neglect  them. 

My  order  called  for  thirty-four  hundred  three- 
year-old  apple  trees  of  the  highest  grade,  to  be  de- 
livered in  good  condition  on  the  platform  at  Exeter 
for  the  lump  sum  of  $550.  The  agreement  had 
been  made  in  August,  and  the  trees  were  to  be 
delivered  as  near  the  20th  of  October  as  practica- 
ble.    Apple  trees  comprised  my  entire  planting 


PLANNING  FOR  THE  TREES  85 

for  the  autumn  of  1895.  I  wanted  to  do  much 
other  work  in  that  line,  but  it  had  to  be  left  for 
a  more  convenient  season.  Hundreds  of  fruit 
trees,  shade  trees,  and  shrubs  have  since  been 
planted  at  Four  Oaks,  but  this  first  setting  of 
thirty-four  hundred  apple  trees  was  the  most 
important  as  well  as  the  most  urgent. 

The  orchard  was  to  be  a  prominent  feature  in 
the  factory  I  was  building,  and  as  it  would  be 
slower  in  coming  to  perfection  than  any  other 
part,  it  was  wise  to  start  it  betimes.  I  have 
kicked  myself  black  and  blue  for  neglecting  to 
plant  an  orchard  ten  years  earlier.  If  I  had 
done  this,  and  had  spent  two  hours  a  month  in 
the  management  of  it,  it  would  now  be  a  thing 
of  beauty  and  an  income-producing  joy  forever, 
—  or,  at  least,  as  long  as  my  great-grandchildren 
will  need  it. 

There  is  no  danger  of  overdoing  orcharding. 
The  demand  for  fruit  increases  faster  than  the 
supply,  and  it  is  only  poor  quality  or  bad  hand- 
ling that  causes  a  slack  market.  If  the  general 
farmer  will  become  an  expert  orchardist,  he  will 
find  that  year  by  year  his  ten  acres  of  fruit  will 
give  him  a  larger  profit  than  any  forty  acres  of 
grain  land  ;  but  to  get  this  result  he  must  be 
faithful  to  his  trees.  Much  of  the  time  they  are 
caring  for  themselves,  and  for  the  owner,  too ; 
but  there  are  times  when  they  require  sharp  at- 
tention, and  if  they  do  not  get  it  promptly  and 
in  the  right  way,  they  and  the  owner  will  suffer. 


86  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

Fruit  growing  as  a  sole  occupation  requires  fav- 
orable soil,  climate,  and  market,  and  also  a  con- 
siderable degree  of  aptitude  on  the  part  of  the 
manager,  to  make  it  highly  profitable.  A  fruit- 
grower in  our  climate  must  have  other  interests 
if  he  would  make  the  most  of  his  time.  While 
waiting  for  his  fruit  he  can  raise  food  for  hens 
and  hogs ;  and  if  he  feeds  hens  and  hogs, 
he  should  keep  as  many  cows  as  he  can.  He 
will  then  use  in  his  own  factory  all  the  raw 
material  he  can  raise.  This  will  again  be  re- 
turned to  the  land  as  a  by-product,  which  will 
not  only  maintain  the  fertility  of  the  farm,  but 
even  increase  it.  If  his  cows  are  of  the  best, 
they  will  yield  butter  enough  to  pay  for  their 
food  and  to  give  a  profit ;  the  skim  milk,  fed  to 
the  hogs  and  hens,  will  give  eggs  and  pork  out 
of  all  proportion  to  its  cost ;  and  everything  that 
grows  upon  his  land  can  thus  be  turned  off  as  a 
finished  product  for  a  liberal  price,  and  yet  the 
land  will  not  be  depleted.  The  orchard  is  better 
for  the  hens  and  hogs  and  cows,  and  they  are 
better  for  the  orchard.  These  industries  fit  into 
each  other  like  the  folding  of  hands ;  they  seem 
mutually  dependent,  and  yet  they  are  often  di- 
vorced, or,  at  best,  only  loosely  related.  This 
view  may  seem  to  be  the  result  of  post  hoc  rea- 
soning, but  I  think  it  is  not.  I  believe  I  imbibed 
these  notions  with  my  mother's  milk,  for  I  can 
remember  no  time  when  they  were  not  mine. 
The  psalmist  said,  «  Comfort  me  with  apples  "  ; 


PLANNING  FOR  THE   TREES  87 

and  the  psalmist  was  reputed  a  wise  man.  With 
only  sufficient  wisdom  to  plant  an  orchard,  I  live 
in  high  expectation  of  finding  the  same  comfort 
in  my  old  age. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

PLANTING    OP   THE   TREES 

September  proved  as  dry  as  August  was  wet, 
—  only  half  an  inch  of  water  fell ;  and  the  seed- 
ings  would  have  been  slow  to  start  had  they 
depended  for  their  moisture  upon  the  clouds. 
By  October  1,  however,  green  had  taken  the 
place  of  brown  on  nearly  all  the  sixty  acres  we 
had  tilled.  The  threshers  came  and  threshed 
the  wheat  and  oats.  Of  wheat  there  were  311 
bushels,  of  oats,  1272.  We  stored  this  grain  in 
the  cottage  until  the  granary  should  be  ready, 
and  stacked  the  straw  until  the  forage  barn 
could  receive  it.  My  plan  from  the  first  has 
been  to  shelter  all  forage,  even  the  meanest,  and 
bright  oat  straw  is  not  low  in  the  scale. 

On  the  10th  the  horse  stable  was  far  enough 
advanced  to  permit  the  horses  to  be  moved,  and 
the  old  barn  was  deserted.  A  neighbor  who 
had  bought  this  barn  at  once  pulled  it  down 
and  carted  it  away.  In  this  transaction  I  held 
out  several  days  for  150,  but  as  my  neighbor  was 
obdurate  I  finally  accepted  his  offer.  The  first 
entry  on  the  credit  side  of  my  farm  ledger  is,  By 
one  old  barn,  $45.  The  receipts  for  October, 
November,  and  December,  were  :  — 

88 


PLANTING  OF  THE  TREES  89 

By  one  old  barn .        .  $45.00 

By  apples  on  trees  (153  trees  at  $1.85  each)  .        .        .  283.00 

By  480  bushels  of  potatoes  at  30  cents  per  bushel .        .  144.00 

By  five  old  sows,  not  fat         .        .        .        .        .        .  35.00 

One  cow 15.00 

Three  cows      .        .        . 70.00 

Two  cows 35.00 

Three  cows,  two  heifers,  nine  calves       ....  187.00 
Forty-three  shoats  and  gilts,  average  162  lb.,  at  2  cents 

per  lb 139.00 

Total $953.00 

The  young  hogs  had  eaten  most  of  my  small 
potatoes  and  some  of  my  corn  before  we  parted 
with  them  in  late  November.  These  sales  were 
made  at  the  farm,  and  at  low  prices,  for  I  was 
afraid  to  send  such  stuff  to  market  lest  some  one 
should  find  out  whence  it  came.  The  Four  Oaks 
brand  was  to  stand  for  perfection  in  the  future, 
and  I  was  not  willing  to  handicap  it  in  the  least. 
Top  prices  for  gilt-edged  produce  is  what  inten- 
sive farming  means ;  and  if  there  is  money  in 
land,  it  will  be  found  close  to  this  line. 

The  potatoes  had  been  dug  and  sold,  or  stored 
in  the  cellar  of  the  farm-house ;  the  apples  from 
the  trees  reserved  for  home  use  had  been  gath- 
ered, and  we  were  ready  for  the  fall  planting. 
While  waiting  for  the  stock  to  arrive,  we  had 
time  to  get  in  all  the  hay  and  most  of  the  straw 
into  the  forage  barn,  which  was  now  under  roof. 

On  Saturday,  the  26th,  word  came  that  six- 
teen immense  boxes  had  arrived  at  Exeter  for 
us.  Three  teams  were  sent  at  once,  and  each 
team  brought  home  two  boxes.    Three  trips  were 


90  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

made,  and  the  entire  prospective  orchard  was 
safely  landed.  Monday  saw  our  whole  force  at 
work  planting  trees.  Small  stakes  had  been 
driven  to  give  the  exact  centre  for  each  hole,  so 
that  the  trees,  viewed  from  any  direction,  would 
be  in  straight  lines.  Sam,  Zeb,  and  Judson  were 
to  dig  the  holes,  putting  the  surface  dirt  to  the 
right,  and  the  poor  earth  to  the  left ;  I  was  to 
prune  the  roots  and  keep  tab  on  the  labels ; 
Johnson  and  Anderson  were  to  set  the  trees,  — 
Anderson  using  a  shovel  and  Johnson  his  hands, 
feet,  and  eyes ;  while  Thompson  was  to  puddle 
and  distribute  the  trees.  The  puddling  was 
easily  done.  We  sawed  an  oil  barrel  in  halves, 
placed  these  halves  on  a  stone  boat,  filled  them 
two-thirds  full  of  water,  and  added  a  lot  of  fine 
clay.  Into  this  thin  mud  the  roots  of  each  tree 
were  dipped  before  planting. 

My  duty  was  to  shorten  the  roots  that  were 
too  long,  and  to  cut  away  the  bruised  and  broken 
ones.  The  top  pruning  was  to  be  done  after  the 
trees  were  all  set  and  banked.  The  stock  was 
fine  in  every  respect,  —  fully  up  to  promise. 
Watching  Johnson  set  his  first  tree  convinced 
me  that  he  knew  more  about  planting  than  I 
did.  He  lined  and  levelled  it ;  he  pawed  surface 
dirt  into  the  hole,  and  churned  the  roots  up  and 
down ;  more  dirt,  and  he  tamped  it ;  still  more 
dirt,  and  he  tramped  it ;  yet  more  dirt,  and  he 
stamped  it  until  the  tree  stood  like  a  post ;  then 
loose  dirt,  and  he  left  it.     I  was  sure  Johnson 


PLANTING  OF  THE  TREES  91 

knew  his  business  too  well  to  need  advice  from 
a  tenderfoot,  so  I  went  back  to  my  root  pruning. 

We  were  ten  days  planting  these  thirty-four 
hundred  trees,  but  we  did  it  well,  and  the  days 
were  short.  We  finished  on  the  7th  of  Novem- 
ber. The  trees  were  now  to  be  top  pruned. 
I  told  Johnson  to  cut  every  tree  in  the  big  or- 
chard back  to  a  three-foot  stub,  unless  there  was 
very  good  reason  for  leaving  a  few  inches  (never 
more  than  six),  and  I  turned  my  back  on  him  and 
walked  away  as  I  said  these  cruel  words.  It 
seemed  a  shame  to  cut  these  bushy,  long-legged, 
handsome  fellows  back  to  dwarfish  insignificance 
and  brutish  ugliness,  but  it  had  to  be  done.  I 
wanted  stocky,  thrifty,  low-headed  business  trees, 
and  there  was  no  other  way  to  get  them.  The 
trees  in  the  lower,  or  ten-acre,  orchard,  were  not 
treated  so  severely.  Their  long  legs  were  left, 
and  their  bushy  tops  were  only  moderately  cur- 
tailed. We  would  try  both  high  and  low 
heading. 

On  the  night  of  November  11  the  shredders 
came  and  set  up  their  great  machine  on  the  floor 
of  the  forage  barn,  ready  to  commence  work  the 
next  morning.  There  were  ten  men  in  the  shred- 
ding gang.  I  furnished  six  more,  and  Bill  Jack- 
son came  with  two  others  to  change  work  with 
me ;  that  is,  my  men  were  to  help  him  when  the 
machine  reached  his  farm.  We  worked  nineteen 
men  and  four  teams  three  and  a  half  days  on  the 
forty-three  acres  of  corn,  and  as  a  result,  had  a 


92  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

tremendous  mow  of  shredded  corn  fodder  and  an 
immense  pile  of  half-husked  ears.  For  the  use 
of  the  machine  and  the  wages  of  the  ten  men  I 
paid  $105.  Poor  economy  !  Before  next  corn- 
shredding  time  I  owned  a  machine,  —  smaller  in- 
deed, but  it  did  the  work  as  well  (though  not  as 
quickly),  and  it  cost  me  only  $215,  and  was  good 
for  ten  years. 

The  weather  had  favored  me  thus  far.  The 
wet  August  had  put  the  ground  into  good  con- 
dition for  seeding,  and  the  dry  September  and 
October  had  permitted  our  buildings  to  be  pushed 
forward,  but  now  everything  was  to  change.  A 
light  rain  began  on  the  morning  of  the  15th  (I 
did  not  permit  it  to  interrupt  the  shredding, 
which  was  finished  by  noon),  and  by  night  it 
had  developed  into  a  steady  downpour  that  con- 
tinued, with  interruptions,  for  six  weeks.  No- 
vember and  December  of  1895  gave  us  rain  and 
snow  fall  equal  to  twelve  and  a  half  inches  of 
water.  Plans  at  Four  Oaks  had  to  be  modified. 
There  was  no  more  use  for  the  ploughs.  Nos.  10 
and  11,  and  much  of  the  home  lot  were  left  until 
spring.  I  had  planned  to  mulch  heavily  all  the 
newly  set  trees,  and  for  this  purpose  had  bought 
six  carloads  of  manure  (at  a  cost  of  $72) ;  but 
this  manure  could  not  be  hauled  across  the  sodden 
fields,  and  must  needs  be  piled  in  a  great  heap 
for  use  in  the  spring.  The  carpenters  worked  at 
disadvantage,  and  the  farm  men  could  do  little 
more  than  keep  themselves  and  the  animals  com- 


PLANTING  OF  THE  TREES  93 

fortable.  They  did,  however,  finish  one  good 
job  between  showers.  They  tile-drained  the 
routes  for  the  two  roads  on  the  home  lot,  —  the 
straight  one  east  and  west  through  the  build- 
ing line,  about  1000  feet,  and  the  winding  car- 
riage drive  to  the  site  of  the  main  house,  about 
1850  feet.  The  tile  pipe  cost  $123.  They  also 
set  a  lot  of  fence  posts  in  the  soft  ground. 

Building  progressed  slowly  during  the  bad 
weather,  but  before  the  end  of  December  the 
horse  barn,  the  woodshed,  the  granary,  the  for- 
age barn,  and  the  power-house  were  completed, 
and  most  of  the  machinery  was  in  place.  The 
machinery  consisted  of  a  fifteen  horse-power 
engine,  with  shafting  running  to  the  forage 
barn,  the  granary,  and  the  woodshed.  A  power- 
saw  was  set  in  the  end  of  the  shed,  a  grind- 
ing mill  in  the  granary,  and  a  fodder-cutter  in 
the  forage  barn.  The  cost  of  these  items  was :  — 
Engine  and  shafting $187.00 


Saw    .... 
Mill    .... 
Feed-cutter  and  carrier 
Total    . 


24.00 
32.00 
76.00 


$319.00 

I  gave  the  services  of  my  two  carpenters, 
Thompson  and  Sam,  during  most  of  this  time 
to  Nelson,  for  I  had  but  little  work  for  them, 
and  he  was  not  making  much  out  of  his  job. 

The  last  few  days  of  1895  turned  clear  and 
cold,  and  the  barometer  set  "  fair."  The  change 
chirked  us  up,  and  we  ended  the  year  in  good 
spirits. 


CHAPTER   XV 
polly's  judgment  hall 

Before  closing  the  books,  we  should  take 
account  of  stock,  to  see  what  we  had  purchased 
with  our  money.  Imprimis :  320  acres  of  good 
land,  satisfactory  to  the  eye,  well  fenced  and 
well  groomed ;  3400  apple  trees,  so  well  planted 
as  to  warrant  a  profitable  future ;  a  water  and 
sewer  system  as  good  as  a  city  could  supply ; 
farm  buildings  well  planned  and  sufficient  for 
the  day  ;  an  abundance  of  food  for  all  stock,  and 
to  spare ;  an  intelligent  and  willing  working 
force ;  machinery  for  more  than  present  neces- 
sity ;  eight  excellent  horses  and  their  belongings  ; 
six  cows,  moderately  good ;  two  pigs  and  two 
score  fowls,  to  be  eaten  before  spring,  and  a  lot  of 
fun.  What  price  I  shall  have  to  put  against 
this  last  item  to  make  the  account  balance,  I  can 
tell  better  when  I  foot  the  other  side  of  the 
ledger. 

But  first  I  must  add  a  few  items  to  the  debit 
account.  Moving  the  cottage  cost  $30.  I  paid 
$134  for  grass  seed  and  seed  rye.  The  wage 
account  for  six  men  and  two  women  for  five 
months  was  $735.     Their  food  account  was  $277. 

94 


POLLY'S  JUDGMENT   HALL  95 

Of  course  the  farm  furnished  milk,  cream,  butter, 
vegetables,  some  fruit,  fresh  pork,  poultry,  and 
eggs.  There  were  also  some  small  freight  bills, 
which  had  not  been  accounted  for,  amounting  to 
$31,  and  $8  had  been  spent  in  transportation  for 
the  men.  Then  the  farm  must  be  charged  with 
interest  on  all  money  advanced,  when  I  had  com- 
pleted my  additions.  The  rate  was  to  be  five 
per  cent,  and  the  time  three  months. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  I  went  to  the  farm 
to  pay  up  to  date  all  accounts.  I  wished  to  end 
the  year  with  a  clean  score.  I  did  not  know 
what  the  five  months  had  cost  me  (I  would  know 
that  evening),  but  I  did  know  that  I  had  had 
"  the  time  of  my  life "  in  the  spending,  and  I 
would  not  whine.  I  felt  a  little  nervous  when  I 
thought  of  going  over  the  figures  with  Polly,  — 
she  was  such  a  judicious  spender  of  money.  But 
I  knew  her  criticism  would  not  be  severe,  for  she 
was  hand-in-glove  with  me  in  the  project.  I 
tried  to  find  fault  with  myself  for  wastefulness, 
but  some  excellent  excuse  would  always  crop  up. 
"  Your  water  tower  is  unnecessary."  "  Yes,  but  it 
adds  to  the  landscape,  and  it  has  its  use."  "  You 
have  put  up  too  much  fencing."  "  True,  but  I 
wanted  to  feel  secure,  and  the  old  fences  were  such 
nests  of  weeds  and  rubbish."  «  You  have  spent 
too  much  money  on  the  farm-house."  "  I  think 
not,  for  the  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire,  and  also 
of  all  reasonable  creature  comforts."  And  thus 
it  went  on.    I  would  not  acknowledge  myself  in 


96  THE  FAT  OF  THE   LAND 

the  wrong;  nor,  arguing  how  I  might,  could  I 
find  aught  but  good  in  my  labors.  I  devoutly 
hoped  to  be  able  to  put  the  matter  in  the  same 
light  when  I  stood  at  the  bar  in  Polly's  judgment 
hall. 

The  day  was  clear,  cool,  and  stimulating.  A 
fair  fall  of  snow  lay  on  the  ground,  clean  and 
wholesome,  as  country  snow  always  is.  I  wished 
that  the  house  was  finished  (it  was  not  begun), 
and  that  the  family  was  with  me  in  it.  «  Another 
Christmas  time  will  find  us  here,  God  willing, 
and  many  a  one  thereafter." 

I  spent  three  hours  at  the  farm,  doing  a  little 
business  and  a  lot  of  mooning,  and  then  returned 
to  town.  The  children  were  off  directly  after 
dinner,  intent  on  holiday  festivities,  so  that  Polly 
and  I  had  the  house  to  ourselves.  I  felt  that  we 
needed  it.  I  invited  my  partner  into  the  den, 
lighted  a  pipe  for  consolation,  unlocked  the 
drawer  in  which  the  farm  ledger  is  kept,  gave  a 
small  deprecatory  cough,  and  said :  — 

"  My  dear,  I  am  afraid  I  have  spent  an  awful 
lot  of  money  in  the  last  five  months.  You  see 
there  is  such  a  quantity  of  things  to  do  at  once, 
and  they  run  into  no  end  of  money.  You  know, 
I  —  " 

"  Of  course  I  know  it,  and  I  know  that  you 
lave  got  the  worth  of  it,  too." 

Wouldn't  that  console  you !  How  was  I  to 
Know  that  Polly  would  hail  from  that  quarter  ? 
I  would  have  kissed  her  hand,  if  she  would  have 


POLLY'S  JUDGMENT  HALL  97 

permitted  such  liberty ;  I  kissed  her  lips,  and 
was  ready  to  defend  any  sum  total  which  the 
ledger  dare  show. 

"  Do  you  know  how  much  it  is  ? "  said 
Polly. 

"  Not  within  a  million  !  "  I  was  reckless  then, 
and  hoped  the  total  would  be  great,  for  had  not 
Polly  said  that  she  knew  I  had  got  the  worth  of 
my  money  ?  And  who  was  to  gainsay  her  ?  "  It 
is  more  than  I  planned  for,  I  know,  but  I  do  not 
see  how  I  could  use  less  without  losing  precious 
time.  We  started  into  this  thing  with  the  theory 
that  the  more  we  put  into  it,  without  waste,  the 
more  we  would  ultimately  get  out  of  it.  Our 
theory  is  just  as  sound  to-day  as  it  was  five 
months  ago." 

"  We  will  win  out  all  right  in  the  end,  Mr. 
Headman,  for  we  will  not  put  the  price-mark  on 
health,  freedom,  happiness,  or  fun,  until  we  have 
seen  the  debit  side  of  the  ledger." 

"  How  much  do  you  want  to  spend  for  the 
house  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Do  you  mean  the  house  alone  ?  " 

"  No  ;  the  house  and  carriage  barn.  I'll  pay  for 
the  trees,  shrubs,  and  kickshaws  in  the  gardens 
and  lawns." 

"You  started  out  with  a  plan  for  a  $10,000 
house,  didn't  you?  Well,  I  don't  think  that's 
enough.  You  ought  to  give  me  $15,000  for  the 
house  and  barn  and  let  me  see  what  I  can  do 
with  it ;  and  you  ought  to  give  it  to  me  right 


98  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

away,  so  that  you  cannot  spend  it  for  pigs  and 
foolish  farm  things." 

"  I'll  do  it  within  ten  days,  Polly  ;  and  I  won't 
meddle  in  your  affairs  if  you  will  agree  to  keep 
within  the  limit." 

"  It's  a  bargain,"  said  Polly,  "  and  the  house 
will  be  much  more  livable  than  this  one.  What 
do  you  think  we  could  sell  this  one  for  ?  " 

"  About  $33,000  or  $34,000,  I  think." 

"  And  will  you  sell  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  if  you  don't  object." 

"  Sell,  to  be  sure ;  it  would  be  foolish  to  keep 
it,  for  we'll  be  country  folk  in  a  year." 

"  I  have  a  theory,"  said  I,  "  that  when  we  live 
on  the  farm  we  ought  to  credit  the  farm  with 
what  it  costs  us  for  food  and  shelter  here,  —  pro- 
viding, of  course,  that  the  farm  feeds  and  shelters 
us  as  well." 

"  It  will  do  it  a  great  deal  better.  We  will 
have  a  better  house,  better  food,  more  company, 
more  leisure,  more  life,  and  more  everything  that 
counts,  than  we  ever  had  before." 

"  We'll  fix  the  value  of  those  things  when 
we've  had  experience,"  said  I.  "Now  let's  get 
at  the  figures.  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I  don't 
know  what  they  foot  up,  —  less  than  $40,000,  I 
hope." 

"  Don't  let's  worry  about  them,  no  matter 
what  they  say." 

This  from  prudent,  provident  Polly ! 

"Certainly  not,"  said   I,  as    bold    as   a    lion. 


POLLY'S  JUDGMENT   HALL  99 

"  There  are  thirty-five  items  on  the  debit  side  of 
the  ledger  and  a  few  little  ones  on  the  credit 
side.     Hold  your  breath  while  I  add  them. 

"  I  have  spent  144,331  and  have  received  $953, 
which  leaves  a  debit  balance  of  $43,378." 

"  That  isn't  so  awfully  bad,  when  you  think 
of  all  the  fun  you've  had." 

"  Fun  comes  high  at  this  time  of  the  year, 
doesn't  it,  Polly?" 

"  Much  depends  on  what  you  call  high.  You 
have  waited  and  worked  a  long  time  for  this.  I 
won't  say  a  word  if  you  spend  all  you  have  in 
the  world.     It's  yours." 

"  Mine  and  yours  and  the  children's ;  but  I 
won't  spend  it  all.  Seventy  or  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars,  besides  your  house  and  barn 
money,  shall  be  my  limit.  There  is  still  an  item 
of  interest  to  be  added  to  this  account. 

"  Interest !  Why,  John  Williams,  do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  you  borrowed  this 
money  ?  I  thought  it  was  your  own  to  do  as 
you  liked  with.  Have  you  got  to  pay  interest 
on  it  ?  " 

"It  was  mine,  but  I  loaned  it  to  the  farm. 
Before  I  made  this  loan  I  was  getting  five  per 
cent  on  the  money.  I  must  now  look  to  the 
farm  for  my  five  per  cent.  If  it  cannot  pay  this 
interest  promptly,  I  shall  add  the  deferred  pay- 
ment to  the  principal,  and  it  shall  bear  interest. 
This  must  be  done  each  year  until  the  net  in- 
come from  the  farm  is  greater  than  the  interest 


100  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

account.  Whatever  is  over  will  then  be  used  to 
reduce  the  principal." 

"  That's  a  long  speech,  but  I  don't  think  it's  very 
clear.  I  don't  see  why  a  man  should  pay  inter- 
est on  his  own  money.  The  farm  is  yours,  isn't 
it  ?  You  bought  it  with  your  own  money,  didn't 
you  ?  What  difference  does  it  make  whether 
you  charge  interest  or  not  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least  difference  in  the  world  to  us, 
Polly,  but  a  great  deal  to  the  experiment." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot  the  experiment.  And  how 
much  interest  do  you  add  ?  " 

"  Five  hundred  and  forty-two  dollars.  Also, 
$75  to  the  lawyer  and  $5  for  recording  the  deed, 
making  the  whole  debt  of  the  farm  to  me 
$44,000  even." 

"  Does  it  come  out  just  even  $44,000  ?  I  be- 
lieve you've  manipulated  the  figures." 

"  Not  on  your  life !  Add  them  yourself. 
They  were  put  down  at  all  sorts  of  times  during 
the  past  five  months.  My  dear,  I  wish  you  a 
good-night  and  a  happy  New  Year.  You  have 
given  me  a  very  happy  ending  for  the  old  one." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

WINTER    "WORK 

The  new  year  opened  full  of  all  sorts  of  inter- 
ests and  new  projects.  There  were  so  many  things 
to  plan  for  and  to  commence  at  the  farm  that  we 
often  got  a  good  deal  mixed  up.  I  can  hardly 
expect  to  make  a  connected  narrative  of  the  vari- 
ous plans  and  events,  so  will  follow  each  one  far 
enough  to  launch  it  and  then  leave  it  for  future 
development. 

Little  snow  fell  in  January  and  February  '96. 
The  weather  was  average  winter  weather,  and  a 
good  deal  of  outdoor  work  was  done.  On  the 
2d  I  went  to  the  farm  to  plan  with  Thompson 
an  outline  for  the  two  months.  I  had  decided 
to  make  Thompson  the  foreman,  for  I  had 
watched  him  carefully  for  five  months  and  was 
satisfied  that  I  might  go  farther  and  fare  a  great 
deal  worse.  Indeed,  I  thought  myself  very  for- 
tunate to  have  found  such  a  dependable  man. 
He  was  temperate  and  good-natured,  and  he  had 
a  bluff,  hearty  way  with  the  other  men  that 
made  it  easy  for  them  to  accept  his  directions. 
He  was  thorough,  too,  in  his  work.  He  knew 
how  a  job  should  be  done,  and  he  was  not  satis- 

101 


102  THE  FAT  OP  THE  LAND 

fied  until  it  was  finished  correctly.  He  was  not 
a  worker  for  work's  sake,  as  was  Anderson,  but 
he  was  willing  to  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel 
for  results. 

"  Wait  till  I  get  my  shoulder  under  it,"  was  a 
favorite  expression  with  him,  and  I  am  frank  to 
say  that  when  this  conjunction  took  place  there 
was  apt  to  be  something  doing.  Thompson  is 
still  at  Four  Oaks,  and  it  will  be  a  bad  day  for 
the  farm  when  he  leaves. 

"Thompson,"  said  I,  "you  are  to  be  working 
foreman  out  here,  and  I  want  you  to  put  your 
mind  on  the  business  and  keep  it  there.  I  can- 
not raise  your  wages,  for  I  have  a  system ;  but 
you  shall  have  850  as  a  Christmas  present  if 
things  go  well.     Will  you  stay  on  these  terms  ?  " 

"  I  will  stay,  all  right,  Dr.  Williams,  and  I 
will  give  the  best  I've  got.  I  like  the  looks  of 
this  place,  and  I  want  to  see  how  you  are  going 
to  work  it  out." 

That  being  settled,  I  told  Thompson  of  some 
things  that  must  be  done  during  January  and 
February. 

"  You  must  get  out  a  great  lot  of  wood,  have 
it  sawed,  and  store  it  in  the  shed,  more  than 
enough  for  a  year's  use.  The  wood  should  be 
taken  from  that  which  is  already  down.  Don't 
cut  any  standing  trees,  even  though  they  are 
dead.  Use  all  limbs  that  are  large  enough,  but 
pile  the  brushwood  where  it  can  be  burned. 
We  must  do  wise  forestry  in  these  woods,  and 


WINTER  WORK  103 

we  will  have  an  unlimited  supply  of  fuel.  I 
mean  that  the  wood  lot  shall  grow  better  rather 
than  worse  as  the  years  go  by.  We  cannot  do 
much  for  it  now,  but  more  in  time.  You  must 
see  to  it  that  the  men  are  not  careless  about 
young  trees,  —  no  breaking  or  knocking  down 
will  be  in  order.  Another  thing  to  look  after  is 
the  ice  supply.  I  will  get  Nelson  to  build  an 
ice-house  directly,  and  you  must  look  around  for 
the  ice.  Have  you  any  idea  as  to  where  it  can 
be  had?" 

"  A  big  company  is  getting  ice  on  Round  Lake 
three  miles  west,  and  I  suppose  they  will  sell 
you  what  you  want,"  said  Thompson,  "  and  our 
teams  can  haul  it  all  right. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  they  will  charge  per 
ton  on  their  platform  ?  " 

"From  twenty-five  to  forty  cents,  I  reckon." 

"All  right,  make  as  good  a  bargain  as  you 
can,  and  attend  to  it  at  the  best  time.  When 
the  teams  are  not  hauling  ice  or  wood,  let  them 
draw  gravel  from  French's  pit.  It  will  be  hard 
to  get  it  out  in  the  winter,  but  I  guess  it  can  be 
done,  and  we  will  need  a  lot  of  it  on  these  roads. 
Have  it  dumped  at  convenient  places,  and  we 
will  put  it  on  the  drives  in  the  spring. 

"Another  thing,  —  we  must  have  a  bridge 
across  the  brook  on  each  lane.  You  will  find 
timbers  and  planks  enough  in  the  piles  from  the 
old  barns  to  make  good  bridges,  and  the  men  can 
do  the  work.    Then  there  is  all  that  wire  for  the 


104  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

inside  fences  to  stretch  and  staple  ;  but  mind, 
no  barbed  wire  is  to  be  put  on  top  of  inside 
fences. 

"  These  five  jobs  will  keep  you  busy  for  the 
next  two  months,  for  there'll  be  only  four  men 
besides  yourself  to  do  them.  I  am  going  to  set 
Sam  at  the  chicken  plant.  I'll  see  you  before 
long,  and  we'll  go  over  the  cow  and  hog  plans; 
but  you  have  your  work  cut  out  for  the  next  two 
months.  By  the  way,  how  much  of  an  ice-house 
shall  I  need  ?  " 

"  How  many  cows  are  you  going  to  milk  ?  " 

"  About  forty  when  we  run  at  full  speed ;  per- 
haps half  that  number  this  year." 

"  Well,  then  you'd  better  build  a  house  for 
four  hundred  tons.  That  won't  be  too  big  when 
you  are  on  full  time,  and  it's  a  mighty  bad  thing 
to  run  short  of  ice." 

I  saw  Nelson  the  same  day  and  contracted 
with  him  for  an  ice-house  capable  of  holding 
four  hundred  tons,  for  $900.  The  walls  of  the 
house  to  be  of  three  thicknesses  of  lumber  with 
two  air  spaces  (one  four  inches,  the  other  two) 
without  filling.  As  a  result  of  the  conference 
with  Thompson,  I  had,  before  the  first  of  March, 
a  wood-house  full  of  wood,  which  seemed  a  sup- 
ply for  two  years  at  full  steam ;  an  ice-house 
nearly  full  of  ice ;  two  serviceable  bridges  across 
the  brook ;  the  wire  fencing  almost  completed ; 
and  eighty  loads  of  gravel,  —  about  one-third  of 
what  I  needed.     The  whole  cash  outlay  was,  — 


WINTER  WORK  105 

300  tons  of  ice  at  30  cents  per  ton    .        .  $30.00 

80  tons  of  gravel  at  25  cents  per  load       .  20.00 

Fence  staples 19.00 

Total $129.00 

The  conference  with  Sam  Jones,  the  hen  man, 
was  deferred  until  my  next  visit,  and  my  plans 
for  the  cow  barn,  dairy-house,  and  hog-house  were 
left  to  Nelson  for  consideration,  he  promising  to 
give  me  estimates  within  a  few  days. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

WHAT    SHALL    WE    ASK    OF    THE    HEN? 

Sam  Jones,  the  chicken-loving  man,  was  as 
pleased  as  a  boy  with  a  new  top  when  I  began 
to  talk  of  a  hen  plant.  He  had  a  lot  of  practical 
knowledge  of  the  business,  for  he  had  failed  in 
it  twice ;  and  I  could  furnish  any  amount  of 
theory,  and  enough  money  to  prevent  disaster. 

In  his  previous  attempts  he  had  invested  nearly 
all  his  small  capital  in  a  plant  that  might  yield 
two  hundred  eggs  a  day ;  he  had  to  buy  all  foods 
in  small  quantities,  and  therefore  at  high  prices ; 
and  he  had  to  give  his  whole  time  to  a  business 
which  was  too  small  and  too  much  on  the  hand- 
to-mouth  order  to  give  him  a  living  profit.  My 
theory  of  the  business  was  entirely  different.  I 
could  plan  for  results,  and,  what  was  more  to  the 
point,  I  could  wait  for  them.  Mistakes,  accidents, 
even  disasters,  were  disarmed  by  a  bank  account; 
my  bread  and  butter  did  not  depend  upon  the 
temper  of  a  whimsical  hen.  The  food  would 
cost  the  minimum.  All  grains  and  green  food, 
and  most  of  the  animal  food,  in  the  form  of  skim 
milk,  would  be  furnished  by  the  farm.  I  meant 
also  to  develop  a  plant  large  enough  to  warrant 
the  full  attention  of  an  able-bodied  man.     I  felt 

100 


WHAT   SHALL  WE  ASK  OF  THE  HEN?    107 

no  hesitation  about  this  venture,  for  I  did  not 
intend  to  ask  more  of  my  hens  than  a  well- 
disposed  hen  ought  to  be  willing  to  grant. 

I  do  not  ask  a  hen  to  lay  a  double-yolk  every 
day  in  the  year.  That  is  too  much  to  expect  of 
a  creature  in  whom  the  mother  instinct  is  promi- 
nent, and  who  wishes  also  to  have  a  new  dress  for 
herself  at  least  once  in  that  time.  I  do  not  wish 
a  hen  to  work  overtime  for  me.  If  she  will  fur- 
nish me  with  eight  dozen  of  her  finished  product 
per  annum,  I  will  do  the  rest.  Whatever  she 
does  more  than  that  shall  redound  to  her  credit. 
Two-hundred-eggs-a-year  hens  are  scarcer  than 
hens  with  teeth,  and  I  was  not  looking  for  the 
unusual.  A  hen  can  easily  lay  one  hundred  eggs 
in  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days,  and  yet  find 
time  for  domestic  and  social  affairs.  She  can 
feel  that  she  is  not  a  subject  for  charity,  while 
at  the  same  time  she  retains  her  self-respect  as  a 
hen  of  leisure. 

I  have  the  highest  regard  for  this  domestic 
fowl,  and  I  would  not  for  a  great  deal  impose  a 
too  arduous  task  upon  her.  I  feel  like  encour- 
aging her  in  her  peculiar  industry,  for  which  she 
is  so  eminently  fitted,  but  not  like  forcing  her 
into  strenuous  efforts  that  would  rob  her  of 
vivacity  and  dull  her  social  and  domestic  im- 
pulses. No ;  if  the  hen  will  politely  present  me 
with  one  hundred  eggs  a  year,  I  will  thank  her 
and  ask  no  more.  Some  one  will  say :  "  How 
can  you  make  hens  pay  if  they  don't  lay  more 


108  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

than  eight  dozen  eggs  a  year  ?  Eggs  sometimes 
sell  as  low  as  twelve  cents  per  dozen." 

Four  Oaks  hens  never  have  laid  one-cent  eggs, 
and  never  will.  They  would  quit  work  if  such 
a  price  were  suggested.  Ninety  per  cent  of  the 
eggs  from  Four  Oaks  have  sold  for  thirty  cents 
or  more  per  dozen,  and  the  demand  is  greater 
than  the  supply.  The  Four  Oaks  certificate  that 
the  egg  is  not  thirty-six  hours  old  when  it  reaches 
the  egg  cup,  makes  two  and  a  half  cents  look 
small  to  those  who  can  afford  to  pay  for  the 
best.  To  lack  confidence  in  the  egg  is  a  serious 
matter  at  the  breakfast  table,  and  a  person  who 
can  insure  perfect  trust  will  not  lack  patronage. 
If,  therefore,  a  hen  will  lay  eight  dozen  eggs,  she 
is  welcome  to  say  to  an  acquaintance :  "  I  have 
just  handed  the  Headman  a  two-dollar  bill,"  for  she 
knows  that  I  have  not  paid  fifty  cents  for  her  food. 

Of  course  the  wages  of  the  hen  man  and  his 
food  and  the  interest  on  the  plant  must  be 
counted,  but  I  do  not  propose  to  count  them 
twice.  Four  Oaks  is  a  factory  where  several 
things  are  made,  each  in  a  measure  dependent 
on,  and  useful  to,  the  others,  and  we  cannot 
itemize  costs  of  single  products  because  of  this 
mutual  dependence.  I  feel  certain  that  I  could 
not  drop  one  of  the  factory's  industries  without 
loss  to  each  of  the  others.  For  this  reason  I  kept 
a  very  simple  set  of  books.  I  charged  the  farm 
with  all  money  spent  for  it,  and  credited  it  with 
all  moneys  received.     Even  now  I  have  no  very 


WHAT   SHALL   WE  ASK  OF  THE  HEN?    109 

definite  knowledge  of  what  it  costs  to  keep  a  hen, 
a  hog,  or  a  cow ;  nor  do  I  care.  Such  data  are 
greatly  influenced  by  location,  method  of  getting 
supplies,  and  market  fluctuations.  I  furnish 
most  of  my  food,  and  my  own  market.  My 
crops  have  never  entirely  failed,  and  I  take  little 
heed  whether  they  be  large  or  small.  They  are  not 
for  sale  as  crops,  but  as  finished  products.  I  am 
not  willing  to  sell  them  at  any  price,  for  I  want 
them  consumed  on  the  place  for  the  sake  of  the  land. 
Corn  has  sold  for  eighty  cents  a  bushel  since  I 
began  this  experiment,  yet  at  that  time  I  fed  as 
much  as  ever  and  was  not  tempted  to  sell  a 
bushel,  though  I  could  easily  have  spared  five 
thousand.  When  it  went  down  to  twenty-eight 
cents,  I  did  not  care,  for  corn  and  oats  to  me  are 
simply  in  transition  state,  —  not  commodities  to 
be  bought  or  sold.  They  cost  me,  one  year  with 
another,  about  the  same.  An  abundant  harvest 
fills  my  granaries  to  overflowing ;  a  bad  harvest 
doesn't  deplete  them,  for  I  do  not  sell  my  surplus 
for  fear  that  I,  too,  may  have  to  buy  out  of  a 
high  market.  I  have  bought  corn  and  oats  a  few 
times,  but  only  when  the  price  was  decidedly  be- 
low my  idea  of  the  feeding  value  of  these  grains. 
I  can  find  more  than  twent}^-eight  cents  in  a 
bushel  of  corn,  and  more  than  eighteen  cents  in 
thirty-two  pounds  of  oats.  But  I  am  away  off 
my  subject.  I  began  to  talk  about  the  hen  plant, 
and  have  wandered  to  my  favorite  fad,  —  the 
factory  farm. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

WHITE    WYANDOTTES 

"  Sam,"  said  I,  "  I  am  going  to  start  this  poul- 
try plant  from  just  as  near  the  beginning  of 
things  as  possible.  I  want  you  to  dispose  of 
every  hen  on  the  place  within  the  next  twenty 
days,  and  to  burn  everything  that  has  been  used 
in  connection  with  them.  We've  cleared  this 
land  of  disease  germs,  if  there  were  germs  in  it, 
by  turning  it  bottom-side  up ;  now  let's  start 
free  from  the  pestiferous  vermin  that  make  a 
hen's  life  unhappy.  No  stock,  either  old  or 
young,  shall  be  brought  here.  When  we  want 
to  change  our  breeding,  we'll  buy  eggs  from  the 
best  fanciers  and  hatch  them  in  our  own  incu- 
bators. It  will  then  be  our  own  fault  if  we 
don't  keep  our  chickens  comfortable  and  free 
from  their  enemies.  This  is  sound  theory,  and 
we'll  try  how  it  works  out  in  practice.  Cer- 
tainly it  will  be  easier  to  keep  clean  if  we  start 
clean.  Not  one  board  or  piece  of  lumber  that 
has  been  used  for  any  other  purpose  shall  find 
place  in  my  hen-houses.  Eternal  vigilance 
makes  a  full  egg  basket ;  and  a  full  egg  basket 
means  a  lot  of  money  at  the  year's  end.      I  will 

no 


WHITE  WYANDOTTES  111 

never  find  fault  with  you  for  being  too  carefuL 
Attend  to  the  details  in  such  way  as  suits  you 
best,  provided  the  result  is  thorough  and  ever- 
lasting cleanliness.  Nothing  less  will  win  out, 
and  nothing  less  will  meet  the  requirements  of 
our  factory  rules. 

"  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  get  the  incubating 
cellar  made.  It  ought  to  be  four  feet  in  the 
ground  and  four  feet  out  of  it.  Make  it  ten  feet 
by  fifteen,  inside  measure,  and  you  can  easily 
run  five  two-hundred-egg  incubators.  Build  it 
near  the  south  fence  in  No.  4,  —  that's  the  lot  for 
the  hens.  The  walls  are  to  be  of  brick,  and  we'll 
have  a  brick  floor  put  in,  for  it's  too  cold  to  con- 
crete it  now.  Gables  are  to  point  east  and  west, 
and  each  is  to  have  a  window ;  put  the  door  in 
the  middle  of  the  south  wall,  and  shingle  the 
roof.  Digging  through  three  feet  of  frost  will 
be  hard,  but  it  must  be  done,  and  done  quickly. 
I  want  you  to  start  your  incubator  lamps  before 
the  3d  of  February." 

"  I  can  dig  the  hole  without  much  trouble,  — 
a  big  fire  on  the  ground  for  two  or  three  hours 
will  help,  —  and  I  can  put  on  the  roof  and  do 
all  the  carpenter  work,  but  I  can't  lay  the 
brick." 

"  I'll  look  out  for  that  part  of  the  job,  but  I 
want  you  to  see  that  things  are  pushed,  for  I  shall 
have  a  thousand  eggs  here  by  February  1st  and 
another  thousand  by  the  25th,  and  these  eggs 
mean  money." 


112  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"  What  do  you  have  to  pay  for  them  ?  " 

"Ten  cents  apiece,  —  $200  for  two  thousand 
eggs." 

"  Well,  I  should  say !  Are  they  hand-painted  ? 
I  wouldn't  have  had  to  quit  business  if  I  could 
have  sold  my  eggs  at  a  quarter  of  that  price." 

"  That's  all  right,  Sam,  but  you  didn't  sell 
White  Wyandotte  eggs  for  hatching.  I've  con- 
tracted with  two  of  the  best-known  fanciers  of 
Wyandottes  in  the  country  to  send  me  five  hun- 
dred eggs  apiece  February  1st  and  25th.  I  don't 
think  the  price  is  high  for  the  stock." 

"  Have  you  decided  to  keep  'dottes  ?  I  hoped 
you  would  try  Leghorns ;  they're  great  layers." 

"Yes,  they're  great  summer  layers,  but  the 
American  birds  will  beat  them  hollow  in  winter; 
and  I  must  have  as  steady  a  supply  of  eggs  as 
possible.  My  customers  don't  stop  eating  eggs 
in  winter,  and  they'll  be  willing  to  pay  more  for 
them  at  that  season.  The  Leghorn  is  too  small 
to  make  a  good  broiler,  and  as  half  the  chicks 
come  cockerels,  we  must  look  out  for  that." 

"  Why  do  you  throw  down  the  Plymouth 
Rocks?  They're  bigger  than  'dottes, and  just  as 
good  layers." 

"  I  threw  down  the  barred  Plymouth  Rocks 
on  account  of  color ;  I  like  white  hens  best.  It 
was  hard  to  decide  between  White  Rocks  and 
Wyandottes,  for  there's  mighty  little  difference 
between  them  as  all-around  hens.  I  really  think 
I  chose  the  'dottes  because  the  first  reply  to  my 


WHITE  WYANDOTTES  113 

letters  was  from  a  man  who  was  breeding 
them." 

"  They  are  <  beauts,'  all  of  them,  and  I'll  give 
them  a  good  chance  to  spread  themselves,"  said 
Sam. 

"  What  percentage  of  hatch  may  we  expect 
from  purchased  eggs  ?  " 

"  About  sixty  chicks  out  of  every  hundred 
eggs,  I  reckon." 

"  That  would  be  doing  pretty  well,  wouldn't 
it  ?  If  we  had  good  luck  with  the  sixty  chicks, 
how  many  would  grow  up  ?  " 

"  Fifty  ought  to." 

"  Of  these  fifty,  can  we  count  on  twenty-five 
pullets  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  That's  what  I  was  getting  at.  You  think  we 
might,  by  good  luck,  raise  twenty-five  pullets 
from  each  hundred  eggs.  I'll  cut  that  in  the 
middle  and  be  satisfied  with  twelve,  or  even 
with  ten.  At  that  rate  the  two  thousand  eggs 
that  cost  $200  will  give  me  two  hundred  pullets 
to  begin  the  egg-making  next  November.  That's 
not  enough ;  we  ought  to  raise  just  twice  that 
number.  I'll  spend  as  much  more  on  eggs  to  be 
hatched  by  the  middle  of  April  or  the  first  of 
May,  and  then  we  can  reasonably  expect  to  go 
into  next  winter  with  four  hundred  pullets.  They 
will  cost  the  farm  a  dollar  apiece,  but  the  farm 
will  have  four  hundred  cockerels  to  sell  at  fifty 
cents  each,  which  will  materially  reduce  the  cost." 


114  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"  I  think  you  put  that  pretty  low,  sir ;  we 
ought  to  raise  more  than  four  hundred  pullets 
out  of  four  thousand  eggs." 

"  Everything  more  will  be  clear  gain.  I  shall 
be  satisfied  with  four  hundred.  We  must  also 
get  at  the  brooder  house.  This  is  the  order  in 
which  I  want  the  buildings  to  stand  in  the 
chicken  lot:  first,  the  incubating  house,  10  feet 
from  the  south  line ;  40  feet  north  of  this,  the 
brooder  house ;  and  120  feet  north  of  that,  the 
first  hen-house,  with  runs  100  feet  deep.  We'll 
build  other  houses  for  the  birds  as  we  need  them. 
They  are  all  to  face  to  the  south.  If  the  brooder 
house  is  50  feet  long  and  15  feet  wide,  it  can 
easily  care  for  the  eight  hundred  chicks,  and  for 
half  as  many  more,  if  we  are  lucky  enough  to  get 
them. 

"  We'll  have  a  five-foot  walk  against  the  north 
wall  of  this  house,  and  a  ten-foot  space  north  and 
south  through  the  centre  for  heating  plant  and 
food.  This  will  leave  a  space  at  each  side  ten  by 
twenty  feet,  to  be  cut  into  five  pens  four  feet 
by  ten,  each  of  which  will  mother  a  hundred 
chicks  or  more.  There  must  be  plenty  of  glass 
in  the  south  wall,  and  we'll  use  overhead  water 
pipes  in  each  hover. 

"There's  no  hurry  about  the  poultry-houses. 
You  can  build  one  in  the  early  summer,  and  per- 
haps another  in  the  fall.  I  expect  you  to  do  the 
carpenter  work  on  these  houses.  I'll  see  the 
mason  at  once  and  have  him  ready  by  the  time 


WHITE  WYANDOTTES  115 

you've  dug  the  hole.  The  incubators  will  be  here 
in  good  time,  and  we  want  everything  ready  for 
work  as  soon  as  the  eggs  arrive." 

Sam  was  pleased  with  his  job  ;  it  was  exactly 
to  his  liking.  He  took  real  delight  in  caring  for 
fowls,  and  he  was  especially  anxious  to  prove  to 
me  that  it  was  not  so  much  lack  of  knowledge 
as  lack  of  capital  that  had  caused  the  downfall 
of  his  previous  efforts.  Sam  could  not  then 
understand  why  one  man  could  sell  his  eggs  at 
thirty-six  cents  a  dozen  when  his  neighbor  could 
get  only  sixteen ;  he  found  out  later. 

The  mason's  work  for  the  incubator  house  and 
the  foundation  wall  for  the  brooder  house  cost 
$290.  The  lumber  bill  for  these  two,  including 
doors  and  windows,  was  $464.  The  five  incu- 
bators, $65,  and  the  hot-water  heater  for  the 
brooder  house,  $68,  made  the  total  $897.  Add 
to  this  $400  paid  during  two  months  for  eggs, 
and  we  have  $1297  as  the  cost  of  starting  the 
poultry  plant. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

FRIED    PORK 

I  had  given  Nelson  this  sketch  as  a  guide  in 
working  out  the  plan  for  the  cow  barn  :  Length 
over  all,  130  feet ;  width,  40  feet.  This  parallelo- 
gram was  to  be  divided  lengthwise  into  three 
equal  spaces,  one  in  the  centre  for  a  driveway, 
and  one  on  each  side  for  the  cow  platforms  and 
feeding  mangers.  Twenty  feet  at  the  west  end 
of  the  barn  was  partitioned  off,  one  corner  for  a 
small  granary,  the  other  for  a  kitchen  in  which 
the  food  was  to  be  prepared.  These  rooms  were 
each  thirteen  feet  by  twenty.  At  the  other  end 
of  the  building,  ten  feet  on  each  side  was  given 
over  to  hospital  purposes,  —  a  lying-in  ward  ten 
feet  by  thirteen  being  on  each  side  of  the  drive- 
way. 

The  foundation  for  this  building  was  to  be  of 
stone,  and  the  entire  floor  of  cement ;  and  the 
walls  were  to  be  sealed  within  and  sheeted  with- 
out, and  then  covered  with  ship  lap  boards,  mak- 
ing three  thicknesses  of  boards.  It  was  to  be 
one  story  high.  An  east-and-west  passage,  cut- 
ting the  main  drive  at  right  angles,  divided  the 
barn  at  its  middle.     At  the  south  end  of  this 

116 


FRIED  PORK  117 

passage  was  a  door  leading  to  the  dairy-house, 
which  was  on  the  building  line  150  feet  away. 
The  four  spaces  made  by  these  passages  were 
each  subdivided  into  ten  stalls  five  feet  wide. 
Two  doors  on  the  north  and  two  on  the 
south  gave  exit  for  the  cows.  I  had  placed 
my  limit  at  forty  milch  cows,  and  I  thought  this 
stable  would  furnish  suitable  quarters  for  that 
number.  If  I  had  to  rebuild,  I  would  make  some 
modifications.  Experience  is  a  good  teacher  ;  but 
the  stable  has  served  its  purpose,  and  I  cannot 
quarrel  with  the  results.  The  chief  defect  is  in 
the  distribution  of  water.  The  supply  is  abun- 
dant, but  it  is  let  on  only  in  the  kitchen,  whence 
it  is  supplied  to  the  cows  by  means  of  a  hose  or 
a  barrel  swung  between  wheels. 

In  the  kitchen  are  appliances  for  mixing  and 
cooking  food,  and  for  warming  the  drinking 
water  in  winter.  Nelson  and  I  discussed  the 
sketch  plan  given   below,  and    he  found  some 


GRAIN 

lllillllll 

COW 

40  X 

KITCHEN 

lllillllll 

BARN 


IT 


fault  with  it.  I  would  not  be  dissuaded  from 
my  views,  however,  and  Nelson  had  to  yield.  I 
was  as  opinionated  in  those  days  as  a  theoretical 
amateur  is  apt  to  be;  and  it  was  hard  to  give 


118  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

up  my  theories  at  the  suggestion  of  a  person  who 
had  only  experience  to  guide  him.  The  best 
plan,  as  I  have  long  since  learned,  is  to  mix  the 
two  and  use  the  solid  substance  that  results  from 
their  combination. 

We  located  the  site  of  the  building,  and  talked 
plans  until  the  low  sun  of  January  8th  disap- 
peared in  the  west.  Then  we  adjourned  to  the 
sitting  room  of  the  farm-house  to  finish  the 
matter  so  far  as  was  possible.  An  hour  and  a 
half  passed,  and  we  were  in  fair  accord,  when 
Mrs.  Thompson  came  into  the  room  to  say  that 
supper  was  ready,  and  to  ask  us  to  join  the  men 
at  table  before  starting  homeward.  I  was  glad 
of  the  opportunity,  for  I  was  curious  to  know  if 
Mrs.  Thompson  set  a  good  table.  We  went  into 
the  dining  room  just  as  the  farm  family  was 
ready  to  sit  down.  There  were  ten  of  us,  —  two 
women,  six  men,  Nelson,  and  myself ;  and  as  we 
sat  down,  I  noticed  with  pleasure  that  each  had 
evidently  taken  some  thought  of  the  obligations 
which  a  table  ought  to  impose.  The  table  was 
clothed  in  clean  white,  and  there  was  a  napkin 
at  each  plate.  Nelson  and  I  had  the  only  per- 
fectly fresh  ones,  and  this  I  took  as  evidence  that 
napkins  were  usual.  The  food  was  all  on  the 
table,  and  was  very  satisfactory  to  look  at. 
Thompson  sat  at  one  end,  and  before  him,  on  a 
great  platter,  lay  two  dozen  or  more  pieces  of  fried 
salt  pork,  crisp  in  their  shells  of  browned  flour, 
and  fit  for  a  king.     On  one  side  of  the  platter 


FRIED  PORK  119 

was  a  heaping  dish  of  steaming  potatoes.  A 
knife  had  been  drawn  once  around  each,  just  to 
give  it  a  chance  to  expand  and  show  mealy  white 
between  the  gaping  circles  that  covered  its  bulk. 
At  the  other  side  was  a  boat  of  milk  gravy, 
which  had  followed  the  pork  into  the  frying-pan 
and  had  come  forth  fit  company  for  the  boiled 
potatoes.  I  went  back  forty  years  at  one  jump, 
and  said, — 

"  I  now  renew  my  youth.  Is  there  anything 
better  under  the  sun  than  fried  salt  pork  and 
milk  gravy  ?  If  there  is,  don't  tell  me  of  it,  for 
I  have  worshipped  at  this  shrine  for  forty  years, 
and  my  faith  must  not  be  shaken." 

Such  a  supper  twice  or  thrice  a  week  would 
warm  the  cockles  of  my  old  heart ;  but  Polly 
says,  "  No  modern  cook  can  make  these  things 
just  right ;  and  if  not  just  right,  they  are  horrid." 
That  is  true ;  it  takes  an  artist  or  a  mother  to 
fry  salt  pork  and  make  milk  gravy. 

There  were  other  things  on  the  table,  —  quan- 
tities of  bread  and  butter,  apple  sauce  (in  a  dish 
that  would  hold  half  a  peck),  stacks  of  fresh  gin- 
ger-bread, tea,  and  great  pitchers  of  milk ;  but 
naught  could  distract  my  attention  from  the 
piece  de  resistance.  Thrice  I  sent  my  plate  back, 
and  then  could  do  no  more.  That  meal  con- 
vinced me  that  I  could  trust  Mrs.  Thompson. 
A  woman  who  could  fry  salt  pork  as  my  mother 
did,  was  a  woman  to  be  treasured. 

I  left  the  farm-house  at  7,  and  reached  home 


120  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

by  8.45.  Polly  was  not  quite  pleased  with  my 
late  hours ;  she  said  it  did  not  worry  her  not  to 
know  where  I  was,  but  it  was  annoying. 

"  Can't  you  have  a  telephone  put  into  the  farm- 
house ?  It  would  be  convenient  in  a  lot  of 
ways." 

"  Why,  of  course ;  I  don't  see  why  it  can't  be 
done  at  once.  I'll  make  application  this  very 
night." 

It  was  six  weeks  before  we  really  got  a  wire 
to  the  farm,  but  after  that  we  wondered  how  we 
ever  got  along  without  it. 


CHAPTER   XX 

A    RATION    FOR    PRODUCT 

Nelson  was  to  commence  work  on  the  cow- 
house at  once ;  at  least,  the  mason  was.  I  left 
the  job  as  a  whole  to  Nelson,  and  he  made  some 
sort  of  contract  with  the  mason.  The  agreement 
was  that  I  should  pay  $4260  for  the  barn  com- 
plete. The  machinery  we  put  into  it  was  very 
simple,  —  a  water  heater  and  two  cauldrons  for 
cooking  food.     All  three  cost  about  $60. 

Thompson  had  selected  six  cows,  from  those 
bought  with  the  place,  as  worth  wintering.  They 
were  now  giving  from  six  to  eight  quarts  each, 
and  were  due  to  come  in  in  April  and  May.  An 
eight-quart-a-day  cow  was  not  much  to  my  lik- 
ing, but  Thompson  said  that  with  good  care  they 
would  do  better  in  the  spring.  "  Four  of  those 
cows  ought  to  make  fine  milkers,"  he  said  ;  "  they 
are  built  for  it,  —  long  bodies,  big  bags,  milk 
veins  that  stand  out  like  crooked  welts,  light 
shoulders,  slender  necks,  and  lean  heads.  They 
are  young,  too ;  and  if  you'll  dehorn  them,  I 
believe  they'll  make  your  thoroughbreds  hump 
themselves  to  keep  up  with  them  at  the  milk 
pail.     You  see,  these  cows  never  had  more  than 

121 


122  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

half  a  chance  to  show  what  they  could  do.  They 
have  never  been  <fed  for  milk.'  Farmers  don't 
do  that  much.  They  think  that  if  a  cow  doesn't 
bawl  for  food  or  drink  she  has  enough.  I  sup- 
pose she  has  enough  to  keep  her  from  starving, 
and  perhaps  enough  to  hold  her  in  fair  condition, 
but  not  enough  to  do  this  and  fill  the  milk  pail, 
too.  I  read  somewhere  about  a  ration  for  *  main- 
tenance '  and  one  for  '  product,'  and  there  was  a 
deal  of  difference.  Most  farmers  don't  pay  much 
attention  to  these  things,  and  I  guess  that's  one 
reason  why  they  don't  get  on  faster." 

"  You've  got  the  whole  matter  down  fine  in 
that  'ration  for  product,'  Thompson,  and  that's 
what  we  want  on  this  farm.  A  ration  that  will 
simply  keep  a  cow  or  a  hen  in  good  health 
leaves  no  margin  for  profit.  Cows  and  hens  are 
machines,  and  we  must  treat  them  as  such. 
Crowd  in  the  raw  material,  and  you  may  look 
for  large  results  in  finished  product.  The  ques- 
tion ought  always  to  be,  How  much  can  a  cow 
eat  and  drink  ?  not,  How  little  can  she  get  on 
with  ?  Grain  and  forage  are  to  be  turned  into 
milk,  and  the  more  of  these  foods  our  cows  eat, 
the  better  we  like  it.  If  these  machines  work 
imperfectly,  we  must  get  rid  of  them  at  once 
and  at  any  price.  It  will  not  pay  to  keep  a 
cow  that  persistently  falls  below  a  high  standard. 
We  waste  time  on  her,  and  the  smooth  running 
of  the  factory  is  interrupted.  I'm  going  to  place 
a  standard  on  this  farm  of  nine  thousand  pounds 


A  RATION  FOR  PRODUCT  123 

a  year  for  each  matured  cow ;  I  don't  think 
that  too  high.  If  a  cow  falls  much  below  that 
amount,  she  must  give  place  to  a  better  one,  for 
I'm  not  making  this  experiment  entirely  for  my 
health.  The  standard  isn't  too  high,  yet  it's 
enough  to  give  a  fine  profit.  It  means  at  least 
three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  butter  a  year, 
and  in  this  case  the  butter  means  at  least  thirty 
cents  a  pound,  or  more  than  $100  a  year  for 
each  cow.  This  is  all  profit,  if  one  wishes  to 
figure  it  by  itself,  for  the  skimmed  milk  will 
more  than  pay  for  the  food  and  care.  But  why 
did  you  say  dehorn  the  cows  ?  " 

"Well,  I  notice  that  a  man  with  a  club  is 
almost  sure  to  find  some  use  for  it.  If  he  isn't 
pounding  the  fence  or  throwing  it  at  a  dog,  he's 
snipping  daisies, or  knocking  the  heads  off  bull- 
thistles.  He's  always  doing  something  with  it 
just  because  he  has  it  in  his  hand.  It's  the  same 
way  with  a  cow.  If  she  has  horns,  she'll  use 
them  in  some  way,  and  they  take  her  mind  off 
her  business.  No,  sir ;  a  cow  will  do  a  lot  better 
without  horns.  There's  mighty  little  to  distract 
her  attention  when  her  clubs  are  gone." 

"  What  breeds  of  cows  have  you  handled, 
Thompson  ?  " 

"Not  any  thoroughbreds  that  I  know  of; 
mostly  common  kinds  and  grade  Jerseys  or 
Holsteins." 

"  I'm  going  to  put  a  small  herd  of  thorough 
bred  Holsteins  on  the  place." 


124  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"  Why  don't  you  try  thoroughbred  Jerseys  ' 
They'll  give  as  much  butter,  and  they  won't  eat 
more  than  half  as  much." 

"You  don't  quite  catch  my  idea,  Thompson. 
I  want  the  cow  that  will  eat  the  most,  if  she  is, 
at  the  same  time,  willing  to  pay  for  her  food.  I 
mean  to  raise  a  lot  of  food,  and  I  want  a  home 
market  for  it.  What  comes  from  the  land  must 
go  back  to  it,  or  it  will  grow  thin.  The  Holstein 
will  eat  more  than  the  Jersey,  and,  while  she  may 
not  make  more  butter,  she  will  give  twice  as 
much  skimmed  milk  and  furnish  more  fertilizer 
to  return  to  the  land.  Fresh  skimmed  milk  is  a 
food  greatly  to  be  prized  by  the  factory-farm 
man ;  and  when  we  run  at  full  speed,  we  shall 
have  three  hundred  thousand  pounds  of  it  to 
feed. 

"I  have  purchased  twenty  three-year-old  Hoi 
stein  cows,  in  calf  to  advanced  registry  bulls, 
and  they  are  to  be  delivered  to  me  March  10.  I 
shall  want  you  to  go  and  fetch  them.  I  also 
bought  a  young  bull  from  the  same  herd,  but 
not  from  the  same  breeding.  These  twenty-one 
animals  will  cost,  by  the  time  they  get  here, 
$2200.  I  shall  give  the  bull  to  my  neighbor 
Jackson.  He  will  be  proud  to  have  it,  and  I 
shall  be  relieved  of  the  care  of  it.  Be  good  to 
your  neighbor,  Thompson,  if  by  so  doing  you 
can  increase  the  effectiveness  of  the  factory  farm. 
We  will  start  the  dairy  with  twenty  thorough- 
breds and  six  scrubs.      I  shall  probably  buy  and 


A  RATION   FOR  PRODUCT  125 

sell  from  time  to  time ;  but  of  one  thing  I  am 
certain :  if  a  cow  cannot  make  our  standard, 
she  goes  to  the  butcher,  be  she  mongrel  or  thor- 
ough-bred. What  do  you  think  of  Judson  as  a 
probable  dairyman  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  would  do  first-rate. 
He's  a  quiet  fellow,  and  cows  like  that.  He  has 
those  roans  tagging  him  all  over  the  place ;  and 
if  a  horse  likes  a  man,  it's  because  he's  nice  and 
quiet  in  his  ways.  I  notice  that  he  can  milk  a 
cow  quicker  than  the  other  men,  and  it  ain't 
because  he  don't  milk  dry  —  I  sneaked  after 
him  twice.  The  cow  just  gives  down  for  him 
better  than  for  the  others." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE   BAZORBACK 

We  have  now  launched  three  of  the  four  prin- 
cipal industries  of  our  factory  farm.  The  fourth 
is  perhaps  the  most  important  of  all,  if  a  single 
member  of  a  group  of  mutually  dependent  indus- 
tries can  have  this  distinction.  There  is  no  ques- 
tion that  the  farmer's  best  friend  is  the  hog. 
He  will  do  more  for  him  and  ask  less  of  him  than 
any  other  animal.  All  he  asks  is  to  be  born. 
That  is  enough  for  this  non-ruminant  quadruped, 
who  can  find  his  living  in  the  earth,  the  roadside 
ditch,  or  the  forest,  and  who,  out  of  a  supply  of 
grass,  roots,  or  mast,  can  furnish  ham  and  bacon 
to  the  king's  taste  and  the  poor  man's  mainte- 
nance. The  half-wild  razorback,  with  never  a 
clutch  of  corn  to  his  back,  gives  abundant  food 
to  the  mountaineer  over  whose  forest  he  ranges. 
The  cropped  or  slit  ear  is  the  only  evidence  of 
human  care  or  human  ownership.  He  lives  the 
life  of  a  wild  beast,  and  in  the  autumn  he  dies 
the  death  of  a  wild  beast ;  while  his  flesh,  made 
rich  with  juices  of  acorns,  beechnuts,  and  other 
sweet  masts,  nourishes  a  man  whose  only  exercise 
of  ownership  is  slaughter.  The  hog  that  can 
make  his  own  living,  run  like  a  deer,  and  drink 

12$ 


THE  RAZORBACK  127 

out  of  a  jug,  has  done  more  for  the  pioneer  and 
the  backwoodsman  than  any  other  animal. 

Take  this  semi-wild  beast  away  from  his  wild 
haunts,  give  him  food  and  care,  and  he  will 
double  his  gifts.  Add  a  hundred  generations  of 
careful  selection,  until  his  form  is  so  changed 
that  it  is  beyond  recognition,  and  again  the  prod- 
uct will  be  doubled.  The  spirit  of  swine  is  not 
changed  by  civilization  or  good  breeding;  such 
as  it  was  on  that  day  when  the  herd  «  ran  down 
a  steep  place  and  was  drowned  in  the  sea,"  such 
it  is  to-day.  A  fixed  determination  to  have  its 
own  way  dominated  the  creature  then,  and  a 
pig-headed  desire  to  be  the  greatest  food-produc- 
ing machine  in  the  world  is  its  ruling  passion 
now.  That  the  hog  has  succeeded  in  this  is  beyond 
question ;  for  no  other  food  animal  can  increase 
its  own  weight  one  hundred  and  fifty  fold  in  the 
first  eight  months  of  its  life. 

All  over  the  world  there  is  a  growing  fondness 
for  swine  flesh,  and  the  ever  increasing  supply 
doesn't  outrun  the  demand.  Since  the  disper- 
sion of  the  tribes  of  Israel  there  has  been  no 
persistent  effort  to  depopularize  this  wonderful 
food  maker.  Pig  has  more  often  been  the  food 
of  the  poor  than  of  the  rich,  but  now  rich  and 
poor  alike  do  it  honor.    Old  Ben  Jonson  said :  — 

"  Now  pig  is  meat,  and  a  meat  that  is  nourish- 
ing and  may  be  desired,  and  consequently  eaten : 
it  may  be  eaten ;  yea,  very  exceedingly  well 
eaten." 


128  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

Hundreds  have  praised  the  rasher  of  ham,  and 
thousands  the  flitch  of  bacon ;  it  took  the  stroke 
of  but  one  pen  to  make  roast  pig  classical. 

The  pig  of  to-day  is  so  unlike  his  distant  pro- 
genitor that  he  would  not  be  recognized  ;  if  by 
any  chance  he  were  recognized,  it  would  be  only 
with  a  grunt  of  scorn  for  his  unwieldy  shape 
and  his  unenterprising  spirit.  Gone  are  the 
fleet  legs,  great  head,  bulky  snout,  terrible  jaws, 
warlike  tusks,  open  nostrils,  flapping  ears,  gaunt 
flanks,  and  racing  sides  ;  and  with  these  has  gone 
everything  that  told  of  strength,  freedom,  and 
wild  life.  In  their  place  has  come  a  cuboidal 
mass,  twice  as  long  as  it  is  broad  or  high,  with 
a  place  in  front  for  mouth  and  eyes,  and  a  fool- 
ish-looking leg  under  each  corner.  A  mighty 
fall  from  "  freedom's  lofty  heights,"  but  a  won- 
derfully improved  machine.  The  modern  hog  is 
to  his  progenitor  as  the  man  with  the  steam- 
hammer  to  the  man  with  the  stone-hammer,  — 
infinitely  more  useful,  though  not  so  free. 

It  is  not  easy  to  overestimate  the  value  of 
swine  to  the  general  farmer ;  but  to  the  factory 
farmer  they  are  indispensable.  They  furnish  a 
profitable  market  for  much  that  could  not  be 
sold,  and  they  turn  this  waste  material  into  a 
surprising  lot  of  money  in  a  marvellously  short 
time.  A  pig  should  reach  his  market  before  he 
is  nine  months  old.  From  the  time  he  is  new- 
born until  he  is  250  days  old,  he  should  gain  at 
least  one  pound  a  day,  which  means  five  cents, 


THE  BAZORBACK  129 

in  ordinary  times.  During  this  time  he  has 
eaten,  of  things  which  might  possibly  have  been 
sold,  perhaps  five  dollars'  worth.  At  250  days, 
with  a  gain  of  one  pound  a  day,  he  is  worth,  one 
year  with  another,  $12.50.  This  is  putting  it 
too  low  for  my  market,  but  it  gives  a  profit  of 
not  less  than  $6  a  head  after  paying  freight  and 
commissions.  It  is,  then,  only  a  question  of  how 
many  to  keep  and  how  to  keep  them.  To  answer 
the  first  half  of  this  question  I  would  say,  Keep 
just  as  many  as  you  can  keep  well.  It  never 
pays  to  keep  stock  on  half  rations  of  food  or 
care,  and  pigs  are  not  exceptions.  In  answering 
the  other  half  of  the  question,  how  to  keep  them, 
I  shall  have  to  go  into  details  of  the  first  build- 
ing of  a  piggery  at  Four  Oaks. 

As  in  the  case  of  the  hens,  I  determined  to 
start  clean.  Hogs  had  been  kept  on  the  farm 
for  years,  and,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  there  had 
been  no  epizootic  disease.  The  swine  had  had 
free  range  most  of  the  time,  and  the  specimens 
which  I  bought  were  healthy  and  as  well  grown 
as  could  be  expected.  They  were  not  what  I 
wanted,  either  in  breed  or  in  development,  so 
they  had  been  disposed  of,  all  but  two.  These 
I  now  consigned  to  the  tender  care  of  the  butcher, 
and  ordered  the  sty  in  which  they  had  been  kept 
to  be  burned. 

I  had  planned  to  devote  lot  No.  2  to  a  pig- 
gery. There  are  five  acres  in  this  lot,  and  I 
thought  it   large  enough    to    keep  four   or  five 


130  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

hundred  pigs  of  all  sizes  in  good  health  and  good 
condition  for  forcing.  Some  of  the  swine,  not 
intended  for  market,  would  have  more  liberty ; 
but  close  confinement  in  clean  pens  and  small 
runs  was  to  be  the  rule.  To  crowd  hogs  in  this 
way,  and  at  the  same  time  to  keep  them  free  from 
disease,  would  require  special  vigilance.  The  ordi- 
nary diseases  that  come  from  damp  and  draughts 
could  be  fended  off  by  carefully  constructed 
buildings.  Cleanliness  and  wholesome  food  ought 
to  do  much,  and  isolation  should  accomplish  the 
rest.  I  have  established  a  perfect  quarantine 
about  my  hog  lot,  and  it  has  never  been  broken. 
After  the  first  invoices  of  swine  in  the  winter 
and  spring  of  1896,  no  hog,  young  or  old,  has 
entered  my  piggery,  save  by  the  way  of  a  sixty- 
day  quarantine  in  the  wood  lot,  and  very  few 
by  that  way. 

My  pigs  are  several  hundred  yards  from  the 
public  roads,  and  my  neighbor,  Jackson,  has 
planted  a  young  orchard  on  his  land  to  the  north 
of  my  hog  lots,  and  permits  no  hogs  in  this 
planting.  I  have  thus  secured  practical  isolation. 
I  have  rarely  sent  swine  to  fairs  or  stock  shows. 
In  the  few  instances  in  which  I  have  broken  this 
rule  I  have  sold  the  stock  shown,  never  return- 
ing it  to  Four  Oaks. 

Isolation,  cleanliness,  good  food,  good  water, 
and  a  constant  supply  of  ashes,  charcoal,  and 
salt,  have  kept  my  herd  (thus  far)  from  those 
dreadfully  fatal   diseases  that  destroy  so  many 


THE  RAZORBACK  131 

swine.  If  I  can  keep  the  specific  micro-organism 
that  causes  hog-cholera  off  my  place,  I  need  not 
fear  the  disease.  The  same  is  true  of  swine 
plague.  These  diseases  are  of  bacterial  origin, 
and  are  communicated  by  the  transference  of 
bacteria  from  the  infected  to  the  non-infected. 
I  propose  to  keep  my  healthy  herd  as  far  re- 
moved as  possible  from  all  sources  of  infection. 
I  have  carried  these  precautions  so  far  that  I 
am  often  scoffed  at.  I  require  my  swineherd, 
when  returning  from  a  fair  or  a  stock  show,  to 
take  a  full  bath  and  to  disinfect  his  clothing 
before  stepping  into  the  pig-house.  This  may 
seem  an  unnecessary  refinement  in  precautionary 
measures,  but  I  do  not  think  so.  It  has  served 
me  well :  no  case  of  cholera  or  plague  has  shown 
itself  at  Four  Oaks. 

What  would  I  do  if  disease  should  appear? 
I  do  not  know.  I  think,  however,  that  I  should 
fight  it  as  hard  as  possible  at  close  quarters, 
killing  the  seriously  ill,  and  burning  all  bodies. 
After  the  scourge  had  passed  I  would  dispose  of 
all  stock  as  best  I  could,  and  then  burn  the 
entire  plant  (fences  and  all),  plough  deep,  cover 
the  land  white  as  snow  with  lime,  leave  it  until 
spring,  plough  again,  and  sow  to  oats.  During 
the  following  summer  I  would  rebuild  my  plant 
and  start  afresh.  A  whole  year  would  be  lost, 
and  some  good  buildings,  but  I  think  it  would 
pay  in  the  end.  There  would  be  no  safety  for 
the  herd  while  a   single  colony   of   cholera  or 


132  THE  EAT  OF  THE  LAND 

plague  bacteria  was  harbored  on  the  place ;  and 
while  neither  might,  for  years,  appear  in  virulent 
form,  yet  there  would  be  constant  small  losses 
and  constant  anxiety.  One  cannot  afford  either 
of  these  annoyances,  and  it  is  usually  wise  to 
take  radical  measures.  If  we  apply  sound  busi- 
ness rules  to  farm  management,  we  shall  at  least 
deserve  success. 

I  chose  to  keep  thoroughbred  swine  for  the 
reason  that  all  the  standard  varieties  are  reason- 
ably certain  to  breed  true  to  a  type  which,  in 
each  breed,  is  as  near  pork-making  perfection  as 
the  widest  experience  can  make  it.  Most  of  our 
good  hogs  are  bred  from  English  or  Chinese 
stock.  Modifications  by  climate,  care,  crossing, 
and  wise  selection  have  procured  a  number  of 
excellent  varieties,  which  are  distinct  enough  to 
warrant  separate  names,  but  which  are  nearly 
equal  as  pork-makers. 

In  color  one  could  choose  between  black,  black 
and  white,  and  white  and  red.  I  wanted  white 
swine  ;  not  because  they  are  better  than  swine  of 
other  colors,  for  I  do  not  think  they  are,  but  for 
aesthetic  reasons.  My  poultry  was  to  be  white, 
and  white  predominated  in  my  cows ;  why 
should  not  my  swine  be  white  also,  —  or  as 
white  as  their  habits  would  permit  ?  I  am  told 
on  all  sides  that  the  black  hog  is  the  hardiest, 
that  it  fattens  easier,  and  that  for  these  reasons 
it  is  a  better  all-round  hog.  This  may  be  true, 
but  I  am  content  with  my  white  ones.     When 


THE  RAZORBACK  133 

some  neighbor  takes  a  better  bunch  of  hogs  to 
market,  or  gets  a  better  price  for  them,  than  I 
do,  I  may  be  persuaded  to  think  as  he  talks. 
Thus  far  I  have  sold  close  to  the  top  of  the  mar- 
ket, and  my  hogs  are  never  left  over. 

Perhaps  my  hogs  eat  more  than  those  of  my 
neighbors.  I  hope  they  do,  for  they  weigh  more, 
on  a  "  weight  for  age  "  scale,  and  I  do  not  think 
they  are  "  air  crammed,"  for  "  you  cannot  fatten 
capons  so."  I  am  more  than  satisfied  with  my 
Chester  Whites.  They  have  given  me  a  fine 
profit  each  year,  and  I  should  be  ungrateful  if  I 
did  not  speak  them  fair. 

I  wished  to  get  the  hog  industry  started  on  a 
liberal  scale,  and  scoured  the  country,  by  letter, 
for  the  necessary  animals.  I  found  it  difficult 
to  get  just  what  I  wanted.  Perhaps  I  wanted 
too  much.  This  is  what  I  asked  for :  A  regis- 
tered young  sow  due  to  farrow  her  second  litter 
in  March  or  April.  By  dint  of  much  correspond- 
ence and  a  considerable  outlay  of  money,  I  finally 
secured  nineteen  animals  that  answered  the  re- 
quirements. I  got  them  in  twos  and  threes  from 
scattered  sources,  and  they  cost  an  average  price 
of  |31  per  head  delivered  at  Four  Oaks.  A 
young  boar,  bred  in  the  purple,  cost  $27.  My 
foundation  herd  of  Chester  Whites  thus  cost  me 
$614,  —  too  much  for  an  economical  start;  but, 
again,  I  was  in  a  hurry. 

The  hogs  began  to  arrive  in  February,  and  were 
put  into  temporary  quarters  pending  the  building 


134  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

of  the  house  for  the  brood  sows,  which  house 
must  now  be  described. 

It  was  a  low  building,  150  by  30  feet,  divided 
by  a  six-foot  alley-way  into  halves,  each  150  by 
12  feet.  Each  of  these  halves  was  again  divided 
into  fifteen  pens  10  by  12  feet,  with  a  10  by  30 
run  for  each  pen.  This  was  the  general  plan  for 
the  brood-house  for  thirty  sows.  At  the  east  end 
of  this  house  was  a  room  15  by  30  feet  for  cook- 
ing food  and  storing  supplies  for  a  few  days. 
The  building  was  of  wood  with  plank  floors. 
It  stands  there  yet,  and  has  answered  its  pur- 
pose ;  but  it  was  never  quite  satisfactory.  I 
wanted  cement  floors  and  a  more  sightly  build- 
ing. I  shall  probably  replace  it  next  year. 
When  it  was  built  the  weather  was  unfavorable 
for  laying  cement,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  wait 
for  a  more  clement  season.  The  house  and  the 
fences  for  the  runs  cost  $2100. 

On  the  6th  of  March  Thompson  called  me  to 
one  of  the  temporary  pens  and  showed  me  a 
family  of  the  prettiest  new-born  animals  in  the 
world,  —  a  fine  litter  of  no  less  than  nine  new- 
farrowed  pigs.  I  felt  that  the  fourth  industry 
was  fairly  launched,  and  that  we  could  now  work 
and  wait. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE   OLD    ORCHARD 

March  was  unusually  raw  even  for  that  un- 
cooked month.  The  sun  had  to  cross  the  line 
before  it  could  make  much  impression  on  the 
deep  frost.  After  the  15th,  however,  we  began 
to  find  evidences  that  things  were  stirring  below 
ground.  The  red  and  yellow  willows  took  on 
brighter  colors,  the  bark  of  the  dogwood  assumed 
a  higher  tone,  and  the  catkins  and  lilac  buds  be- 
gan to  swell  with  the  pride  of  new  sap. 

If  our  old  orchard  was  to  be  pruned  while 
dormant,  it  must  be  done  at  once.  Thompson  and 
I  spent  five  days  of  hard  work  among  the  trees, 
cutting  out  all  dead  limbs,  crossing  branches,  and 
suckers.  We  called  the  orchard  old,  but  it  was 
so  only  by  comparison,  for  it  was  not  out  of  its 
teens ;  and  I  did  not  wish  to  deal  harshly  with 
it.  A  good  many  unusual  things  were  being 
done  for  it  in  a  short  time,  and  it  was^not  wise 
to  carry  any  one  of  them  too  far.  It  had  been 
fertilized  and  ploughed  in  the  fall,  and  now  it  was 
to  be  pruned  and  sprayed,  —  all  innovations.  The 
trees  were  well  grown  and  thrifty.  They  had 
given  a  fair  crop  of  fruit   last   year,  and   they 

135 


136  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

were  well  worth  considerable  attention.  They 
could  not  hereafter  be  cultivated,  for  they  were 
all  in  the  soiling  lot  for  the  cows,  but  they  could 
be  pruned  and  sprayed.  The  lack  of  cultivation 
would  be  compensated  by  the  fertilization  inci- 
dent to  a  feeding  lot.  The  trees  would  give 
shade  and  comfort  to  the  cows,  while  the  cows 
fed  and  nourished  the  trees,  —  a  fair  exchange. 

•The  crop  of  the  year  before,  though  half 
the  apples  were  stung,  had  brought  nearly  1300. 
With  better  care,  and  consequently  better  fruit, 
we  could  count  on  still  better  results,  for  the 
varieties  were  excellent  (Baldwins,  Jonathans, 
and  Rome  Beauties) ;  so  we  trimmed  carefully 
and  burned  the  rubbish.  This  precaution, 
especially  in  the  case  of  dead  limbs,  is  impor- 
tant, for  most  dead  wood  in  young  trees  is  due 
to  disease,  often  infectious,  and  should  be  burned 
at  once. 

I  bought  a  spraying-pump  (for  $13),  which 
was  fitted  to  a  sound  oil  barrel,  and  we 
were  ready  to  make  the  first  attack  on  fungus 
disease  with  the  Bordeaux  mixture.  This  was 
done  by  Johnson  and  Anderson  late  in  the  month. 
Another  vigorous  spraying  with  the  same  mixture 
when  the  buds  were  swelling,  another  when  the 
flower  petals  were  falling,  and  still  another  when 
the  fruit  was  as  large  as  peas  (the  last  two  spray- 
ings had  Paris  green  added  to  the  Bordeaux 
mixture),  and  the  fight  against  apple  enemies 
was  ended  for  that  year. 


THE  OLD  ORCHARD  137 

Thompson  had  gone  for  the  cows.  He  left 
March  9,  and  returned  with  the  beauties  on 
Friday  the  17th.  They  were  all  my  fancy  had 
painted  them,  —  large,  gentle-eyed,  with  black 
and  white  hair  over  soft  butter-yellow  skin,  and  all 
the  points  that  distinguish  these  marvellous  milk- 
machines.  They  were  bestowed  as  needs  must 
until  the  cow  barn  was  completed.  One  of 
them  had  dropped  a  bull  calf  two  days  before 
leaving  the  home  farm.  The  calf  had  been  left, 
and  the  mother  was  in  an  uncomfortable  condi- 
tion, with  a  greatly  distended  udder  and  milk 
streaming  from  her  four  teats,  though  Thompson 
had  relieved  her  thrice  while  en  route. 

I  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  cows,  but  must 
not  spend  time  on  them  now,  for  things  are  hap- 
pening in  my  factory  faster  than  I  can  tell  of 
them.  Johnson  had  built  some  primitive  hot- 
beds for  early  vegetables  out  of  old  lumber  and 
oiled  muslin.  He  had  filled  them  with  refuse 
from  the  horse  stable  and  had  sown  his  seeds. 


./ 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE   FIRST    HATCH 

On  February  3  the  incubator  lamps  were 
lighted  under  the  first  invoice  of  one  thousand 
eggs.  The  incubating  cellar  was  to  Sam's  liking, 
and  he  felt  confident  that  three  weeks  of  strict 
attention  to  temperature,  moisture,  and  the  turn- 
ing of  eggs,  would  bring  results  beyond  my 
expectations. 

After  the  seventh  day,  on  which  he  had  tested 
or  candled  the  eggs,  he  was  willing  to  promise 
almost  anything  in  the  way  of  a  hatch,  up  to 
seventy-five  or  eighty  per  cent.  In  the  intervals 
of  attendance  on  the  incubators  he  was  hard  at 
work  on  the  brooder-house,  which  must  be  ready 
for  its  first  occupants  by  the  25th.  Everything 
went  smoothly  until  the  18th.  That  morning 
Sam  met  me  with  a  long  face. 

"  Something  went  wrong  with  one  of  my 
lamps  last  night,"  said  he.  "  I  looked  at  them 
at  ten  o'clock  and  they  were  all  right,  but  at 
six  this  morning  one  of  the  thermometers  was 
registering  122°,  and  the  whole  batch  was 
cooked." 

"  Not  the  whole  thousand,  Sam  ! " 

138 


THE   FIKST  HATCH  139 

"No,  but  170  fertile  eggs,  and  that  spoils 
a  twenty-dollar  bill  and  a  lot  of  good  time. 
What  in  the  name  of  the  black  man  ever  got 
into  that  lamp  of  mine  is  more  than  I  know. 
It's  just  my  luck !  " 

"It's  everybody's  luck  who  tries  to  raise 
chickens  by  wholesale,  and  we  must  copper  it. 
Don't  be  downed  by  the  first  accident,  Sam ; 
keep  fighting  and  you'll  win  out." 

The  brooder-house  was  ready  when  the  first 
chicks  picked  the  shells  on  the  24th,  and 
within  thirty-six  hours  we  had  503  little 
white  balls  of  fluff  to  transfer  from  the  four 
incubators  to  the  brooder-house.  We  put  about 
a  hundred  together  in  each  of  five  brooders, 
fed  them  cut  oats  and  wheat  with  a  little  coarse 
corn  meal  and  all  the  fresh  milk  they  could  drink, 
and  they  throve  mightily. 

The  incubators  wTere  filled  again  on  the  26th, 
and  from  that  hatch  we  got  552  chicks.  On  the 
21st  of  March  they  were  again  filled,  and  on 
the  13th  of  April  we  had  477  more  to  add  to 
the  colony  in  the  brooder-house.  For  the  last  time 
we  started  the  lamps  April  15th,  and  on  the  6th 
of  May  we  closed  the  incubating  cellar  and  found 
that  2109  chicks  had  been  hatched  from  the 
4000  eggs.  The  last  hatch  was  the  best  of 
all,  giving  607.  I  don't  think  we  have  ever  had 
as  good  results  since,  though  to  tell  the  truth  I 
have  not  attempted  to  keep  an  exact  count  of 
eggs  incubated.     My  opinion   is   that   fifty  per 


140  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

cent  is  a  very  good  average  hatch,  and  that  one 
should  not  expect  more. 

In  September,  when  the  young  birds  were 
separated,  the  census  report  was  723  pullets  and 
764  cockerels,  showing  an  infant  mortality  of 
622,  or  twenty-nine  per  cent.  The  accidents 
and  vicissitudes  of  early  chickenhood  are  serious 
matters  to  the  unmothered  chick,  and  they  must 
not  be  overlooked  by  the  breeder  who  figures  his 
profits  on  paper. 

After  the  first  year  I  kept  no  tabs  on  the 
chickens  hatched ;  my  desire  was  to  add  each 
year  600  pullets  to  my  flock,  and  after  the  third 
season  to  dispose  of  as  many  hens.  It  doesn't 
pay  to  keep  hens  that  are  more  than  two  and  a 
half  years  old.  I  have  kept  from  1200  to  1600 
laying  hens  for  the  past  six  years.  I  do  not 
know  what  it  costs  to  feed  one  or  all  of  them, 
but  I  do  know  what  moneys  I  have  received  for 
eggs,  young  cockerels,  and  old  hens,  and  I  am 
satisfied. 

There  is  a  big  profit  in  keeping  hens  for  eggs 
if  the  conditions  are  right  and  the  industry  is 
followed,  in  a  businesslike  way,  in  connection 
with  other  lines  of  business ;  that  is,  in  a  factory 
farm.  If  one  had  to  devote  his  whole  time  to 
the  care  of  his  plant,  and  were  obliged  to  buy 
almost  every  morsel  of  food  which  the  fowls 
ate,  and  if  his  market  were  distant  and  not  of 
the  best,  I  doubt  of  great  success  ;  but  with  food 
at  the  lowest   and  product  at  the  highest,  you 


THE  FIRST  HATCH  141 

cannot  help  making  good  money.  I  do  not 
think  I  have  paid  for  food  used  for  my  fowls  in 
any  one  year  more  than  1500  ;  grits,  shells,  meat 
meal,  and  oil  meal  will  cover  the  list.  I  do  not 
wish  to  induce  any  man  or  woman  to  enter  this 
business  on  account  of  the  glowing  statements 
which  these  pages  contain.  I  am  ideally  situ- 
ated. I  am  near  one  of  the  best  markets  for  fine 
food ;  I  can  sell  all  the  eggs  my  hens  will  lay  at 
high  prices ;  food  costs  the  minimum,  for  it 
comes  from  my  own  farm ;  I  utilize  skim-milk, 
the  by-product  from  another  profitable  industry, 
to  great  advantage ;  and  I  had  enough  money  to 
carry  me  safely  to  the  time  of  product.  In  other 
words,  I  could  build  my  factory  before  I  needed 
to  look  to  it  for  revenue.  I  do  not  claim  that  this 
is  the  only  way,  but  I  do  claim  that  it  is  the 
way  for  the  fore-handed  middle-aged  man  who 
wishes  to  change  from  city  to  country  life  with- 
out financial  loss.  Younger  people  with  less 
means  can  accomplish  the  same  results,  but  they 
must  offset  money  by  time.  The  principle  of 
the  factory  farm  will  hold  as  well  with  the  one  as 
with  the  other. 

To  intensify  farming  is  the  only  way  to  get 
the  fat  of  the  land.  The  nations  of  the  old 
world  have  nearly  reached  their  limit  in  food 
production.  They  are  purchasers  in  the  open 
market.  This  country  must  be  that  market ; 
and  it  behooves  us  to  look  to  it  that  the  market 
be  well  stocked.     There  is  land  enough  now  and 


142  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

to  spare,  but  will  it  be  so  fifty  or  a  hundred 
years  hence?  Our  arid  lands  will  be  made 
fertile  by  irrigation,  but  they  will  add  only  a 
small  percentage  to  the  amount  already  in  quasi- 
cultivation.  Our  future  food  supplies  must  be 
drawn  largely  from  the  six  million  farms  now 
under  fences.  These  farms  must  be  made  to 
yield  fourfold  their  present  product,  or  they 
will  fall  short,  not  only  of  the  demands  made 
upon  them,  but  also  of  their  possibilities.  That 
is  why  I  preach  the  gospel  of  intensive  farming, 
for  grain,  hay,  market,  and  factory  farm  alike. 

I  will  put  the  chickens  out  of  the  way  for  the 
present,  referring  to  them  from  time  to  time  and 
indicating  their  general  management,  the  cost 
of  their  houses  and  food,  and  the  amount  of 
money  received  for  eggs  and  fowls.  I  do  not 
think  my  plant  would  win  the  approval  of  fan- 
ciers, and  it  is  not  in  all  ways  up  to  date ;  but 
it  is  clean,  healthy,  and  commodious,  and  the 
birds  attend  as  strictly  to  business  as  a  reason- 
able owner  could  wish.  I  shall  be  glad  to  show 
it  to  any  one  interested  enough  to  search  it  out, 
and  to  go  into  the  details  of  the  business  and 
show  how  I  have  been  able  to  make  it  so 
remunerative. 

Sam  is  with  me  no  longer.  For  three  years 
he  did  good  service  and  saved  money,  and  the 
lurid  nose  grew  dim.  There  is,  however,  a 
limit  to  human  endurance.  Like  victims  of  other 
forms  of  circular  insanity,  the  dipsomaniac  com- 


THE  FIRST  HATCH  143 

pletes  his  cycle  in  an  uncertain  period  and  falls 
upon  bad  times.  For  a  month  before  we  parted 
company  I  saw  signs  of  relapse  in  Sam.  He 
was  loquacious  at  times,  at  other  times  morose. 
He  talked  about  going  into  business  for  himself, 
and  his  nose  took  on  new  color.  I  labored 
with  him,  but  to  no  purpose ;  the  spirit  of  un- 
rest was  upon  him,  and  it  had  to  work  its  own. 
I  held  him  firm  long  enough  to  secure  another 
man,  and  then  we  parted,  he  to  do  business  for 
himself,  I  to  get  on  as  best  I  could.  Sam 
painted  his  nose  and  raised  chickens  and  other 
things  until  his  savings  had  flown ;  then  he  got 
a  position  with  a  woman  who  runs  a  broiler 
plant,  and  for  two  years  he  has  given  good 
service.  He  will  probably  continue  in  ways  of 
well-doing  until  the  next  cycle  is  complete,  when 
the  beacon  light  will  blaze  afresh  and  he  will 
follow  it  on  to  the  rocks.  Such  a  man  is  more 
to  be  pitied  than  condemned,  for  his  anchor  is 
sure  to  drag  at  times. 


• 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE   HOLSTEIN   MILK   MACHINE 

During  the  month  of  March  the  teams  hauled 
more  gravel.  They  also  distributed  the  manure 
that  had  been  purchased  in  the  fall  for  mulching 
the  trees.  While  the  ground  was  still  frozen  this 
mulch  was  placed  near  the  trees,  to  be  used  as 
soon  as  the  sun  had  warmed  the  earth.  The 
mound  of  dirt  at  the  base  of  each  tree  was  of 
course  levelled  down  before  this  dressing  was 
applied.  I  never  afterward  purchased  stable  or 
stock-yard  manure,  though  I  could  often  have 
used  it  to  advantage ;  for  I  did  not  think  it  safe 
to  purchase  this  kind  of  fertilizer  for  a  farm  where 
large  numbers  of  animals  are  kept.  The  danger 
from  infection  is  too  great.  Large  quantities  of 
barnyard  manure  were  furnished  yearly  out  of  my 
own  pits,  and  I  supplemented  it  with  a  good 
deal  of  the  commercial  variety.  I  try  to  turn 
back  to  the  land  each  year  more  than  I  take 
from  it,  but  I  do  not  dare  to  go  to  a  stock-yard  for 
any  part  of  my  supply.  It  was  not  until  I  had 
mentally  established  a  quarantine  for  my  hogs 
that  I  realized  the  danger  from  those  six  car- 
loads of  manure ;  and  I    promised  myself  then 

144 


THE  HOLSTEIN  MILK  MACHINE        145 

that  no  such  breach  of  quarantine  should  again 
occur. 

The  cows  arrived  on  St.  Patrick's  Day.  Our 
herd  was  then  composed  of  the  twenty  Holstein 
heifers  (coming  three  years  old),  and  six  of  the 
best  of  the  common  cows  purchased  with  the 
farm.  Within  forty  days  the  herd  was  increased 
by  the  addition  of  twenty-three  calves.  Twenty- 
five  were  born,  but  two  were  dead.  Of  this 
number,  eighteen  were  Holsteins  eligible  for 
registration,  ten  heifers,  and  eight  bulls.  Each 
calf  was  taken  from  its  mother  on  the  third  day 
and  fed  warm  skim-milk  from  a  patent  feeder 
three  times  a  day,  all  it  would  drink.  When 
three  weeks  old,  seven  of  the  Holstein  calves 
and  the  five  from  the  common  cows  were  sent 
to  market.  They  brought  $5.25  each  above  the 
expense  of  selling,  or  $63  for  the  bunch.  The 
ten  Holstein  heifer  calves  were  of  course  held ; 
and  one  bull  calf,  which  had  a  double  cross  of 
Pieterje  2d  and  Pauline  Paul,  and  which  seemed 
an  unusually  fair  specimen,  was  kept  for  further 
development. 

The  cow  barn  was  finished  about  April  1st, 
and  shortly  after  that  the  herd  was  established 
in  permanent  quarters.  As  the  dairy-house  was 
unfinished,  and  there  was  no  convenient  way  of 
disposing  of  the  milk  which  now  flowed  in  abun- 
dance, I  bought  a  separator  (for  $200)  and  sent 
the  cream  to  a  factory,  using  the  fresh  skim-milk 
for  the  calves  and  young  pigs  and  chickens. 


146  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

From  March  22,  when  I  began  to  sell,  until 
May  10,  when  my  dairy-house  was  in  working 
order,  I  received  $203  for  cream.  Thompson  had 
sold  milk  from  the  old  cows,  from  August  to 
December,  1895,  to  the  amount  of  $132.  This 
item  should  have  been  entered  on  the  credit  side 
for  the  last  year,  but  as  it  was  not,  we  will 
make  a  note  of  it  here.  These  are  the  only 
sales  of  milk  and  cream  made  from  Four  Oaks 
since  I  bought  the  land. 

The  milk  supply  from  my  herd  started  out 
at  a  tremendous  rate,  considering  the  age  of  the 
cows.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  none  of 
the  thoroughbreds  was  within  three  years  of 
her  (probable)  best ;  yet  they  were  doing  nobly, 
one  going  as  high  as  fifty-two  pounds  of  milk  in 
one  day,  and  none  falling  below  thirty-six  as  a 
maximum.  The  common  cows  did  nearly  as 
well  at  first,  four  of  them  giving  a  maximum  of 
thirty-two  pounds  each  in  twenty-four  hours. 
It  was  easy  to  see  the  difference  between  the 
two  sorts,  however.  The  old  ones  had  reached 
maturity  and  were  doing  the  best  they  could ; 
the  others  were  just  beginning  to  manufacture 
milk,  and  were  building  and  regulating  their 
machinery  for  that  purpose.  The  Holsteins, 
though  young,  were  much  larger  than  the  old 
cows,  and  were  enormous  feeders.  A  third  or  a 
half  more  food  passed  their  great,  coarse  mouths 
than  their  less  aristocratic  neighbors  could  be 
coaxed    to    eat.       Food,  of  course,    *s  the    one 


THE  HOLSTEIN  MILK  MACHINE        147 

thing  that  will  make  milk ;  other  things  being 
equal,  then  the  cow  that  consumes  the  most 
food  will  produce  the  most  milk.  This  is 
the  secret  of  the  Holsteins'  wonderful  capacity  for 
assimilating  enormous  quantities  of  food  without 
retaining  it  under  their  hides  in  the  shape  of  fat. 
They  have  been  bred  for  centuries  with  the 
milk  product  in  view,  and  they  have  become 
notable  machines  for  that  purpose.  They  are 
not  the  cows  for  people  to  keep  who  have  to 
buy  feed  in  a  high  market,  for  they  are  not  easy 
keepers  in  any  sense ;  but  for  the  farmer  who 
raises  a  lot  of  grain  and  roughage  which  should 
be  fed  at  his  own  door,  they  are  ideal.  They 
will  eat  much  and  return  much. 

As  to  feeding  for  milk,  I  have  followed  nearly 
the  same  plan  through  my  whole  experiment. 
I  keep  an  abundance  of  roughage,  usually 
shredded  corn,  before  the  cows  all  the  time. 
When  it  has  been  picked  over  moderately  well, 
it  is  thrown  out  for  bedding,  and  fresh  fodder 
is  put  in  its  place.  The  finer  forages,  timothy, 
red-top,  clover,  alfalfa,  and  oat  straw,  are  always 
cut  fine,  wetted,  and  mixed  with  grain  before 
feeding.  This  food  is  given  three  times  a  day 
in  such  quantities  as  will  be  eaten  in  forty-five 
minutes.  Green  forage  takes  the  place  of  dry 
in  season,  and  fresh  vegetables  are  served  three 
times  a  week  in  winter.  The  grain  ration  is  about 
as  follows :  By  weight,  corn  and  cob  meal,  three 
parts ;  oatmeal,  three  parts ;   bran,  three  parts ; 


148  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

gluten  meal,  two  parts ;  linseed  meal,  one  part. 
The  cash  outlay  for  a  ton  of  this  mixture  is 
about  112  ;  this  price,  of  course,  does  not  include 
corn  and  oats,  furnished  by  the  farm.  A  Holstein 
cow  can  digest  fifteen  pounds  of  this  grain  a  day. 
This  means  about  two  and  a  half  tons  a  year, 
with  a  cash  outlay  of  $30  per  annum  for  each 
head.  "  Fresh  water  is  always  given  four  times 
a  day,  and  much  of  the  time  the  cows  have  ready 
access  to  it.  In  cold  weather  the  water  is 
warmed  to  about  65°  F.  The  cows  are  let  out 
in  a  twenty-acre  field  for  exercise  every  day, 
except  in  case  of  severe  storms.  They  are  fed 
forage  in  the  open  when  the  weather  is  fine  and 
insects  are  not  troublesome,  and  they  sometimes 
sleep  in  the  open  on  hot  nights ;  but  by  far  the 
largest  part  of  their  time  is  spent  in  their  own 
stalls  away  from  chilling  winds  and  biting  flies. 
In  their  stables  they  are  treated  much  as  fine 
horses  are,  —  well  bedded,  well  groomed,  and  well 
cared  for  in  all  ways. 

A  quiet,  darkened  stable  conduces  rumination. 
Loud  talking,  shouting,  or  laughing  are  not 
looked  upon  with  favor  in  our  cow  barn.  On 
the  other  hand,  continuous  sounds,  if  at  all  melo- 
dious, seem  to  soothe  the  animals  and  increase 
the  milk  flow.  Judson,  who  has  proved  to  be 
our  best  herdsman,  has  a  low  croon  in  his 
mouth  all  the  time.  It  can  hardly  be  called 
a  tune,  though  I  believe  he  has  faith  in  it,  but 
it  has  a  fetching  way  with  the  herd.       I  have 


THE  HOLSTEIN  MILK  MACHINE        149 

never  known  him  to  be  quick,  sharp,  or  loud 
with  the  cows.  When  things  go  wrong,  the 
crooning  ceases.  When  it  is  resumed,  all  is 
well  in  the  cow  world.  The  other  man,  French, 
who  is  an  excellent  milker,  and  who  stands 
well  with  the  cows,  has  a  half  hiss,  half 
whistle,  such  as  English  stable-boys  use,  except 
that  it  runs  up  and  down  five  notes  and  is  lost 
at  each  end.  The  cows  like  it  and  seem  to  ad- 
mire French  for  his  accomplishment  even  more 
than  Judson,  for  they  follow  his  movements  with 
evident  pleasure  expressed  in  their  great  ox  eyes. 
Rigid  rules  of  cleanliness  are  carried  out  in 
every  detail  with  the  greatest  exactness.  The 
house  and  the  animals  are  cared  for  all  the  time 
as  if  on  inspection.  Before  milking,  the  udders 
are  carefully  brushed  and  washed,  and  the  milker 
covers  himself  entirely  with  a  clean  apron.  As 
each  cow  is  milked,  the  milker  hangs  the  pail  on 
a  spring  balance  and  registers  the  exact  weight 
on  a  blackboard.  He  then  carries  the  milk 
through  the  door  that  leads  to  the  dairy-house, 
and  pours  it  into  a  tank  on  wheels.  This  ends 
his  responsibility.  The  dairymaid  is  then  in 
charge. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THE    DAIRYMAID 

Of  course  I  had  trouble  in  getting  a  dairy- 
maid. I  was  not  looking  for  the  bouncing, 
buxom,  red-cheeked,  arms-akimbo,  butter-colored- 
hair  sort.  I  didn't  care  whether  she  were  red- 
cheeked  and  bouncing  or  not,  but  for  obvious 
reasons  I  didn't  want  her  hair  to  be  butter-col- 
ored. What  I  did  want  was  a  woman  who  un- 
derstood creamery  processes,  and  who  could  and 
would  make  the  very  giltest  of  gilt-edged  butter. 

I  commenced  looking  for  my  paragon  in  Janu- 
ary. I  interviewed  applicants  of  both  sexes  and 
all  nationalities,  but  there  was  none  perfect ; 
no,  not  one.  I  was  not  exactly  discouraged,  but 
I  certainly  began  to  grow  anxious  as  the  time 
approached  when  I  should  need  my  dairymaid, 
and  need  her  badly.  One  day,  while  looking 
over  the  Rural  New  Yorker  (I  was  weaned  on 
that  paper),  I  saw  the  following  advertisement. 
"  Wanted :  Employment  on  a  dairy-farm  by  a 
married  couple  who  understand  the  business." 
If  this  were  true,  these  two  persons  were  just 
what  I  needed ;  but,  was  it  true  ?  I  had  tried 
a  score  of  greater  promise  and  had  not  found 

150 


THE   DAIRYMAID  151 

one  that  would  do.  Was  I  to  flush  two  at  once, 
and  would  they  fall  to  my  gun  ? 

A  small  town  in  one  of  the  Middle  Western 
states  was  given  as  the  address,  and  I  wrote  at 
once.  My  letter  was  strong  in  requirements,  and 
asked  for  particulars  as  to  experience,  age,  refer- 
ences, and  nationality.  The  reply  came  promptly, 
and  was  more  to  my  liking  than  any  I  had 
received  before.  Name,  French ;  Americans, 
newly  married,  twenty-eight  and  twenty-six  re- 
spectively ;  experience  four  and  three  years  in 
creamery  and  dairy  work ;  references,  good ; 
the  couple  wished  to  work  together  to  save 
money  to  start  a  dairy  of  their  own.  I  was 
pleased  with  the  letter,  which  was  an  unusual 
one  to  come  from  native-born  Americans.  Our 
people  do  not  often  hunt  in  couples  after  this 
manner.  I  telegraphed  them  to  come  to  the  city 
at  once. 

It  was  late  in  April  when  I  first  saw  the 
Frenches.  The  man  was  tall  and  raw-boned, 
but  good-looking,  with  a  frank  manner  that  in- 
spired confidence.  He  was  a  farmer's  son  with 
a  fair  education,  who  had  saved  a  little  money, 
and  had  married  his  wife  out  of  hand  lest  some 
one  else  should  carry  her  off  while  he  was  build- 
ing the  nest  for  her. 

"  I  took  her  when  I  could  get  her,"  he  said, 
"  and  would  have  done  it  with  a  two-dollar  bill 
in  my  pocket  rather  than  have  taken  chances." 

The  woman  was  worthy  of  such  an  extreme 


152  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

measure,  for  she  looked  capable  of  caring  for 
both.  She  was  a  fine  pattern  of  a  country  girl, 
with  a  head  full  of  good  sense,  and  very  useful- 
looking  hands  and  arms.  Her  face  was  good  to 
look  upon ;  it  showed  strength  of  character  and 
a  definite  object  in  life.  She  said  she  understood 
the  creamery  processes  in  all  their  niceties,  and 
that  she  could  make  butter  good  enough  for 
Queen  Victoria. 

The  proposition  offered  by  this  young  couple 
was  by  far  the  best  I  had  received,  and  I  closed 
with  them  at  once.  I  agreed  to  pay  each  $25  a 
month  to  start  with,  and  explained  my  plan  of 
an  increasing  wage  of  81  a  month  for  each  period 
of  six  months'  service.  They  thought  they  ought 
to  have  $30  level.  I  thought  so,  too,  if  they  were 
as  good  as  they  promised.  But  I  had  a  fondness 
for  my  increasing  scale,  and  I  held  to  it.  These 
people  were  skilled  laborers,  and  were  worth 
more  to  begin  with  than  ordinary  farm  hands. 
That  is  why  I  gave  them  $25  a  month  from  the 
start.  Six  hundred  dollars  a  year  for  a  man  and 
wife,  with  no  expense  except  for  clothing,  is 
good  pay.  They  can  easily  put  away  $400  out 
of  it,  and  it  doesn't  take  long  to  get  fore-handed. 
I  think  the  Frenches  have  invested  $500  a  year, 
on  an  average,  since  they  came  to  Four  Oaks. 

It  is  now  time  to  get  at  the  dairy-house,  since 
the  dairy  and  the  dairymaid  are  both  in  evi- 
dence. The  house  was  to  be  on  the  building 
line,  and   both  Polly  and   I   thought   it    should 


THE  DAIEYMAID  153 

have  attractive  features.  We  decided  to  make 
it  of  dark  red  paving  brick.  It  was  to  be  eighteen 
feet  by  thirty,  with  two  rooms  on  the  ground. 
The  first,  or  south  room,  ten  feet  by  eighteen,  was 
fitted  for  storing  fruit,  and  afforded  a  stairway 
to  the  rooms  above,  which  were  four  in  number 
besides  the  bath.  The  larger  room  was  of  course 
the  butter  factory,  and  was  equipped  with  up- 
to-date  appliances,  —  aerator,  Pasteurizer,  cooler, 
separator,  Babcock  tester,  swing  churn,  butter- 
worker,  and  so  on.  The  house  was  to  have  steep 
gables  and  projecting  eaves,  with  a  window  in 
each  gable,  and  two  dormer  windows  in  each 
roof.  The  walls  were  to  be  plastered,  and  the 
ground  floor  was  to  be  cement.     It  cost  $1375. 

As  motive  power  for  the  churn  and  separator, 
a  two-sheep-power  treadmill  has  proved  entirely 
satisfactory.  It  is  worked  by  two  sturdy  wethers 
who  are  harbored  in  a  pleasant  house  and  run, 
close  to  the  power-house,  and  who  pay  for  their 
food  by  the  sweat  of  their  brows  and  the  wool 
from  their  backs.  They  do  not  appear  to  dis- 
like the  "demnition  grind,"  which  lasts  but  an 
hour  twice  a  day ;  they  go  without  reluctance  to 
the  tramp  that  leads  nowhere,  and  the  futile 
journey  which  would  seem  foolish  to  anything 
wiser  than  a  sheep.  This  sheep-power  is  one  of 
the  curios  of  the  place.  My  grand-girls  never 
lose  their  interest  in  it,  and  it  has  been  photo- 
graphed and  sketched  more  times  than  there  are 
fingers  and  toes  on  the  sheep. 


154  THE   FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

The  expenditure  for  equipment,  from  separa- 
tor to  sheep,  was  $354.  I  made  an  arrangement 
with  a  fancy  grocer  in  the  city  to  furnish  him 
thirty  pounds,  more  or  less,  of  fresh  (unsalted) 
butter,  six  days  in  the  week,  at  thirty-three  cents 
a  pound,  I  to  pay  express  charges.  I  bought  six 
butter-carriers  with  ice  compartments  for  $3.75 
each,  $23  in  all,  and  arranged  with  the  express 
company  to  deliver  my  packages  to  the  grocer 
for  thirty  cents  each.  The  butter  netted  me 
thirty-two  cents  a  pound  that  year,  or  about  $60 
a  week. 

In  July  I  bought  four  thoroughbred  Holsteins, 
four  years  old,  in  fresh  milk,  and  in  October,  six 
more,  at  an  average  price  of  $120  a  head,  —  $1200 
in  all.  These  reinforcements  made  it  possible 
for  me  to  keep  my  contract  with  the  middleman, 
and  often  to  exceed  it. 

The  dairy  industry  was  now  fairly  launched 
and  in  working  order.  It  had  cost,  not  to  be 
exact,  $7000,  and  it  was  reasonably  sure  to  bring 
back  to  the  farm  about  $60  a  week  in  cash,  be- 
sides furnishing  butter  for  the  family  and  an 
immense  amount  of  skim-milk  and  butter-milk  to 
feed  to  the  young  animals  on  the  place. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

LITTLE    PIGS 

By  April  1st  all  my  sows  had  farrowed.  There 
was  much  variation  in  the  number  of  pigs  in 
these  nineteen  litters.  One  noble  mother  gave 
me  thirteen,  two  of  which  promptly  died.  Three 
others  farrowed  eleven  each,  and  so  down  to 
one  ungrateful  mother  who  contributed  but  five 
to  the  industry  at  Four  Oaks.  The  average, 
however,  was  good  ;  154  pigs  on  April  10th  were 
all  that  a  halfway  reasonable  factory  man  could 
expect. 

These  youngsters  were  left  with  their  mothers 
until  eight  weeks  old  ;  then  they  were  put,  in 
bunches  of  thirty,  into  the  real  hog-house,  which 
was  by  that  time  completed.  It  was  200  feet 
long  and  50  feet  wide,  with  a  10-foot  passage- 
way through  the  length  of  it.  On  either  side 
were  10  pens  20  feet  by  20,  each  connected  with 
a  run  20  feet  by  120.  The  house  stood  on  a 
platform  or  bed  of  cement  90  by  200  feet,  which 
formed  the  floor  of  the  house  and  extended  20 
feet  outside  of  each  wall,  to  secure  cleanliness 
and  a  dry  feeding-place  in  the  open.  The 
cement  floor  was  expensive  ($1120  as  first  cost), 

155 


156  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

but  I  think  it  has  paid  for  itself  several  times 
over  in  health  and  comfort  to  the  herd.  The 
structure  on  this  floor  was  of  the  simplest ;  a 
double  wall  only  five  feet  high  at  the  sides, 
shingled  roof,  broken  at  the  ridge  to  admit 
windows,  and  strong  partitions.  It  cost  $3100. 
As  in  the  brood-sow  house,  there  is  a  kitchen  at 
the  west  end.  The  150  little  pigs  made  but  a 
small  showing  in  this  great  house,  which  was 
intended  to  shelter  six  hundred  of  all  sizes,  from 
the  eight-weeks-old  baby  pig  to  the  nine-months- 
old  three-hundred-pounder  ready  for  market. 

Pigs  destined  for  market  never  leave  this  house 
until  ripe  for  killing.  At  six  or  seven  months 
a  few  are  chosen  to  remain  on  the  farm  and 
keep  up  its  traditions  ;  but  the  great  number 
live  their  ephemeral  lives  of  eight  months  luxuri- 
ously, even  opulently,  until  they  have  made  the 
ham  and  bacon  which,  poor  things,  they  cannot 
save,  and  then  pass  into  the  pork  barrel  or  the 
smoke-house  without  a  sigh  of  regret.  They 
toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin ;  but  they  have  a 
place  in  the  world's  economy,  and  they  fit  it 
perfectly.  So  long  as  one  animal  must  eat  an- 
other, the  man  animal  should  thank  the  hog 
animal  for  his  generosity. 

Now  that  my  big  hog-house  seemed  so  empty,  I 
would  gladly  have  sent  into  the  highways  and 
byways  to  buy  young  stock  to  fill  it ;  but  I 
dared  not  break  my  quarantine.  I  could  easily 
have  picked  up  one  hundred  or  even  two  hun- 


LITTLE  PIGS  157 

dred  new-weaned  pigs,  within  six  or  eight  miles 
of  my  place,  at  about  $1.50  each,  and  they  would 
have  grown  into  fat  profit  by  fall ;  but  I  would 
not  take  a  risk  that  might  bear  ill  fruit.  I  had 
slight  depressions  of  spirits  when  I  visited  my 
piggery  during  that  summer ;  but  I  chirked  up 
a  little  in  the  fall,  when  the  brood  sows  again 
made  good.     But  more  of  that  anon. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

WORK    ON    THE    HOME   FORTY 

April  and  May  made  amends  for  the  rudeness 
of  March,  and  the  ploughs  were  early  afield. 
Thompson,  Zeb,  Johnson,  and  sometimes  Ander- 
son, followed  the  furrows,  first  in  10  and  11,  and 
lastly  in  13.  Number  9  had  a  fair  clover  sod, 
and  was  not  disturbed.  We  ploughed  in  all 
about  114  acres,  but  we  did  not  subsoil.  We 
spent  twenty  days  ploughing  and  as  many  more 
in  fitting  the  ground  for  seed.  The  weather  was 
unusually  warm  for  the  season,  and  there  was 
plenty  of  rain.  By  the  middle  of  May,  oats 
were  showing  green  in  Nos.  8,  10,  11,  12,  and  13, 
—  sixty-two  acres.  The  corn  was  well  planted 
in  15  and  the  west  three-quarters  of  14, —  eighty- 
two  acres.  The  other  ten  acres  in  the  young 
orchard  was  planted  to  fodder  corn,  sown  in 
drills  so  that  it  could  be  cultivated  in  one 
direction. 

The  ten-acre  orchard  on  the  south  side  of  the 
home  lot  was  used  for  potatoes,  sugar  beets, 
cabbages,  turnips,  etc.,  to  furnish  a  winter  supply 
of  vegetables  for  the  stock. 

The  outlook  for  alfalfa  was  not  bright.  In 
the   early  spring  we    fertilized  it   again,   using 

168 


WORK  ON  THE  HOME  FORTY  159 

five  hundred  pounds  to  the  acre,  though  it  seemed 
like  a  conspicuous  waste.  The  warm  rains  and 
days  of  April  and  May  brought  a  fine  crop  of 
weeds ;  and  about  the  middle  of  May  I  turned 
Anderson  loose  in  the  fields  with  a  scythe,  and 
he  mowed  down  everything  in  sight. 

After  that  things  soon  began  to  look  better 
in  the  alfalfa  fields.  As  the  season  was  favor- 
able, we  were  able  to  cut  a  crop  of  over  a  ton 
to  the  acre  early  in  July,  and  nearly  as  much  in 
the  latter  part  of  August.  We  cut  forty  tons 
from  these  twenty  acres  within  a  year  from 
seeding,  but  I  suspect  that  was  unusual  luck.  I 
had  used  thirteen  hundred  pounds  of  commer- 
cial fertilizer  to  the  acre,  and  the  season  was 
very  favorable  for  the  growth  of  the  plant.  I 
have  since  cut  these  fields  three  times  each  year, 
with  an  average  yield  of  five  tons  to  the  acre  for 
the  whole  crop. 

I  like  alfalfa,  both  as  green  and  as  dry  forage. 
When  we  use  it  green,  we  let  it  lie  in  swath  for 
twenty-four  hours,  that  it  may  wilt  thoroughly 
before  feeding.  It  is  then  fit  food  for  hens,  hogs, 
and,  in  limited  quantities,  for  cows,  and  is  much 
relished.  When  used  dry,  it  is  always  cut  fine 
and  mixed  with  ground  grains.  In  this  shape  it 
is  fed  liberally  to  hens  and  hogs,  and  also  to 
milch  cows ;  for  the  latter  it  forms  half  of  the 
cut-food  ration. 

While  the  crops  are  growing,  we  will  find  time 
to  note  the  changes  on  the  home  lot.     Nearly  in 


160  THE  EAT   OF  THE  LAND 

front  of  the  farm-house,  and  fifty  yards  distant, 
was  a  space  well  fitted  for  the  kitchen  garden. 
We  marked  off  a  plat  two  hundred  feet  by  three 
hundred,  about  one  and  a  half  acres,  carted  a  lot 
of  manure  on  it,  and  ploughed  it  as  deep  as  the 
subsoiler  would  reach.  This  was  done  as  soon 
as  the  frost  permitted.  We  expected  this  garden 
to  supply  vegetables  and  small  fruits  for  the 
whole  colony  at  Four  Oaks.  An  acre  and  a  half 
can  be  made  exceedingly  productive  if  properly 
managed. 

Along  the  sides  of  this  garden  we  planted  two 
rows  of  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes,  six  feet 
between  rows,  and  the  plants  four  feet  apart  in 
the  rows.  The  ends  of  the  plat  were  left  open 
for  convenience  in  horse  cultivation.  Ten  feet 
outside  these  rows  of  bush  fruit  was  planted  a 
line  of  quince  trees,  thirty  on  each  side,  and 
twenty  feet  beyond  these  a  row  of  cherry  trees, 
twenty  in  each  row. 

Near  the  west  boundary  of  the  home  lot,  and 
north  of  the  lane  that  enters  it,  I  planted  two 
acres  of  dwarf  pear  trees  —  Bartlett  and  Duchess, 
—  three  hundred  trees  to  the  acre.  I  also  planted 
six  hundred  plum  trees  —  Abundance,  Wickson, 
and  Gold  —  in  the  chicken  runs  on  lot  4. 
After  May  1,  when  he  was  relieved  from  his 
farm  duties,  Johnson  had  charge  of  the  planting 
and  also  of  the  gardening,  and  he  took  up  his 
special  work  with  energy  and  pleasure. 

The    drives   on    the    home   lot  were    slightly 


WORK  ON  THE  HOME  FORTY  161 

rounded  with  ploughs  and  scraper,  and  then 
covered  with  gravel.  The  open  slope  intended 
for  the  lawn  was  now  to  be  treated.  It  com- 
prised about  ten  acres,  irregular  in  form  and 
surface,  and  would  require  a  good  deal  of  work 
to  whip  it  into  shape.  A  lawn  need  not  be  per- 
fectly graded,  —  in  fact,  natural  inequalities  with 
dips  and  rises  are  much  more  attractive ;  but  we 
had  to  take  out  the  asperities.  We  ploughed  it 
thoroughly,  removed  all  stumps  and  stones,  lev- 
elled and  sloped  it  as  much  as  pleased  Polly, 
harrowed  it  twice  a  week  until  late  August, 
sowed  it  heavily  to  grass  seed,  rolled  it,  and 
left  it. 

Polly  had  the  house  in  her  mind's  eye.  She 
held  repeated  conversations  with  Nelson,  and  was 
as  full  of  plans  and  secrets  as  she  could  hold. 
By  agreement,  she  was  to  have  a  free  hand  to  the 
extent  of  115,000  for  the  house  and  the  carriage 
barn.  I  never  really  examined  the  plans,  though 
I  saw  the  blue  prints  of  what  appeared  to  be  a 
large  house  with  a  driving  entrance  on  the  east 
and  a  great  wide  porch  along  the  whole  south 
side.  I  did  not  know  until  it  was  nearly  finished 
how  large,  convenient,  and  comfortable  it  was  po 
be.  A  hall,  a  great  living-room,  the  dining  room, 
a  small  reception  room,  and  an  office,  bedroom, 
and  bath  for  me,  were  all  on  the  ground  floor, 
besides  a  huge  wing  for  the  kitchen  and  other 
useful  offices. 

Above  stairs  there  was  room  for  the  family 


162  THE   PAT  OF  THE   LAND 

and  a  goodly  number  of  friends.  We  had  agreed 
that  the  house  should  be  simple  in  all  ways,  with 
no  hard  wood  except  floors,  and  no  ornamenta- 
tion except  paint  and  paper.  It  must  be  larger 
than  our  needs,  for  we  looked  forward  to  delight- 
ful visits  from  many  friends.  We  were  to  have 
more  leisure  than  ever  before  for  social  life,  and 
we  desired  to  make  the  most  of  our  opportunities. 
A  country  house  is  by  all  odds  the  finest  place 
to  entertain  friends  and  to  be  entertained  by 
them.  They  come  on  invitation,  not  as  a  matter 
of  form,  and  they  stay  long  enough  to  put  by 
questions  of  weather,  clothes,  and  servant-girls, 
and  to  get  right  down  to  good  old-fashioned 
visiting.  Real  heart-to-heart  talks  are  everyday 
occurrences  in  country  visits,  while  they  are 
exceptional  in  city  calls.  We  meant  to  make 
much  of  our  friends  at  Four  Oaks,  and  to  have 
them  make  much  of  us.  We  have  discovered  new 
values  even  in  old  friends,  since  we  began  to  live 
with  them,  weeks  at  a  time,  under  the  same 
roof.  Their  interests  are  ours,  and  our  plans  are 
warmly  taken  up  by  them.  There  is  nothing 
like  it  among  the  turmoils  and  interruptions  of 
town  life,  and  the  older  we  grow  the  more  we 
need  this  sort  of  rest  among  our  friends.  The 
guest  book  at  the  farm  will  show  very  few  weeks, 
in  the  past  six  years,  when  friends  haven't  been 
with  us,  and  Polly  and  I  feel  that  the  pleasure 
we  have  received  from  this  source  ought  to  be 
placed  on  the  credit  side  of  the  farm  ledger. 


WORK   ON   THE  HOME  FORTY  163 

Another  reason  for  a  company  house  was  that 
Jack  and  Jane  would  shortly  be  out  of  school. 
It  was  not  at  all  in  accord  with  our  plan  that 
they  should  miss  any  pleasure  by  our  change. 
Indeed,  we  hoped  that  the  change  would  be  to 
their  liking  and  to  their  advantage. 


<* 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

DISCOUNTING   THE   MARKET 

We  broke  ground  for  the  house  late  in  May, 
and  Nelson  said  that  we  should  be  in  it  by 
Thanksgiving  Day.  Soon  after  the  plans  were 
settled  Polly  informed  me  that  she  should  not 
spend  much  money  on  the  stable. 

"  Can't  do  it,"  she  said,  "  and  do  what  I  ought 
to  on  the  house.  I  will  give  you  room  for  six 
horses ;  the  rest,  if  you  have  more,  must  go  to 
the  farm  barn.  I  cannot  spend  more  than  $1100 
or  $1200  on  the  barn." 

Polly  was  boss  of  this  department,  and  I  was 
content  to  let  her  have  her  way.  She  had  already 
mulcted  me  to  the  extent  of  $436  for  trees,  plants, 
and  shrubs  which  were  even  then  grouped  on 
the  lawn  after  a  fashion  that  pleased  her.  I 
need  not  go  into  the  details  of  the  lawn  planting, 
the  flower  garden,  the  pergola,  and  so  forth.  I 
have  a  suspicion  that  Polly  has  in  mind  a  full 
account  of  the  "  fight  for  the  home  forty,"  in  a 
form  greatly  better  than  I  could  give  it,  and  it  is 
only  fair  that  she  should  tell  her  own  story.  I 
am  not  the  only  one  who  admires  her  landscape, 
her  flower  gardens,  and   her  woodcraft.     Many 

164 


DISCOUNTING  THE  MARKET  165 

others  do  honor  to  her  tastes  and  to  the  evidence 
of  thought  which  the  home  lot  shows.  She  dis- 
claims great  credit,  for  she  says,  "  One  has  only 
to  live  with  a  place  to  find   out  what  it  needs." 

As  I  look  back  to  the  beginning  of  my  experi- 
ment, I  see  only  one  bit  of  good  luck  that  at- 
tended it.  Building  material  was  cheap  during 
the  months  in  which  I  had  to  build  so  much. 
Nothing  else  specially  favored  me,  while  in  one 
respect  my  experiment  was  poorly  timed.  The 
price  of  pork  was  unusually  low.  For  three 
years,  from  1896,  the  price  of  hogs  never  reached 
$5  per  hundred  pounds  in  our  market,  —  a  thing 
unprecedented  for  thirty  years.  I  never  sold 
below  three  and  a  half  cents,  but  the  showing 
would  have  been  wonderfully  bettered  could  I 
have  added  another  cent  or  two  per  pound  for 
all  the  pork  I  fattened.  The  average  price  for 
the  past  twenty -five  years  is  well  above  five  cents 
a  pound  for  choice  lots.  Corn  and  all  other  foods 
were  also  cheap ;  but  this  made  little  difference 
with  me,  because  I  was  not  a  seller  of  grain. 

In  1896  I  was,  however,  a  buyer  of  both  corn 
and  oats.  In  September  of  that  year  corn  sold 
on  'Change  at  19^  cents  a  bushel,  and  oats  at 
14|..  These  prices  were  so  much  below  the  food 
value  of  these  grains  that  I  was  tempted  to  buy. 
I  sent  a  cash  order  to  a  commission  house  for 
five  thousand  bushels  of  each.  I  stored  this 
grain  in  my  granary,  against  the  time  of  need, 
at  a  total  expense  of  $1850,  —  21  cents  a  bushel 


166  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

for  corn  and  16  for  oats.  I  had  storage  room 
and  to  spare,  and  I  knew  that  I  could  get  more 
than  a  third  of  a  cent  out  of  each  pound  of 
corn,  and  more  than  half  a  cent  out  of  each 
pound  of  oats.  I  recalled  the  story  of  a  man 
named  Joseph  who  did  some  corn  business  in 
Egypt  a  good  many  years  ago,  much  in  this  line, 
and  who  did  well  in  the  transaction.  There  was 
no  dream  of  fat  kine  in  my  case ;  but  I  knew 
something  of  the  values  of  grains,  and  it  did  not 
take  a  reader  of  riddles  to  show  me  that  when 
I  could  buy  cheaper  than  I  could  raise,  it  was  a 
good  time  to  purchase. 

As  I  said  once  before,  there  have  been  no  se- 
rious crop  failures  at  Four  Oaks,  —  indeed,  we 
can  show  better  than  an  average  yield  each  year  ; 
but  this  extra  corn  in  my  cribs  has  given  me 
confidence  in  following  my  plan  of  very  liberal 
feeding.  With  this  grain  on  hand  I  was  able  to 
cut  twenty  acres  of  oats  in  Nos.  10  and  11  for 
forage.  This  was  done  when  the  grain  was  in 
the  milk,  and  I  secured  about  sixty  tons  of  excel- 
lent hay,  much  loved  by  horses.  We  got  from 
No.  9  a  little  less  than  twelve  tons  of  clover,  — 
alfalfa  furnished  forty  tons  ;  and  there  was  nearly 
twenty  tons  of  old  hay  left  over  from  that  origi- 
nally purchased.  With  all  this  forage,  good  of 
its  kind,  there  was,  however,  no  timothy  or  red 
top,  which  is  by  all  odds  the  best  hay  for  horses. 
I  determined  to  remedy  this  lack  before  another 
year.     As  soon  as  the  oats  were  off  lots  10  and  11, 


DISCOUNTING  THE  MARKET  1G7 

they  were  ploughed  and  crossed  with  the  disk 
harrow.  From  then  until  September  1,  these 
fields  were  harrowed  each  week  in  half  lap,  so 
that  by  the  time  we  were  ready  to  seed  them 
they  were  in  excellent  condition  and  free  from 
weeds.  About  September  1  they  were  sown  to 
timothy  and  red  top,  fifteen  pounds  each  to  the 
acre,  top-dressed  with  five  hundred  pounds  of 
fertilizer,  harrowed  once  more,  rolled,  and  left 
until  spring,  when  another  dose  of  fertilizer  was 
used. 

I  wished  to  establish  twenty  acres  of  timothy 
and  as  much  alfalfa,  to  furnish  the  hay  supply 
for  the  farm.  With  one  hundred  tons  of  alfalfa 
and  sixty  of  timothy,  which  I  could  reasonably 
expect,  I  could  get  on  splendidly. 

From  the  first  I  have  practised  feeding  my  hay 
crop  for  immediate  returns.  The  land  receives 
five  hundred  pounds  of  fertilizer  per  acre  when 
it  is  sown,  a  like  amount  again  in  the  spring, 
and,  as  soon  as  a  crop  is  cut,  three  hundred 
pounds  an  acre  more.  This  usually  gives  a 
second  crop  of  timothy  about  September  1, 
if  the  season  is  at  all  favorable.  The  alfalfa  is 
cut  at  least  three  times,  and  for  each  cutting  it 
receives  three  hundred  pounds  of  plant  food  per 
acre.  In  the  course  of  a  year  I  spend  from  $10 
to  $12  an  acre  for  my  grass  land.  In  return  I  get 
from  each  acre  of  timothy,  in  two  cuttings, 
about  three  and  a  half  tons ;  worth,  at  an  aver- 
age selling  price,  $12  a  ton.     The  alfalfa  yields 


168  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

nearly  five  tons  per  acre,  and  has  a  feeding  value 
of  $10  a  ton.  I  have  sold  timothy  hay  a  few 
times,  but  I  feel  half  ashamed  to  say  so,  for  it  is 
against  my  view  of  justice  to  the  land.  I  find 
oat  hay  cheaper  to  raise  than  timothy,  and,  as  it 
is  quite  as  well  liked  by  the  horses,  I  have  been 
tempted  to  turn  a  part  of  my  timothy  crop  into 
money  directly  from  the  field. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

FROM    CITY   TO    COUNTRY 

In  early  July  I  went  through  my  young 
orchard,  which  had  been  cut  back  so  ruthlessly 
the  previous  autumn,  and  carefully  planned 
a  head  for  each  tree.  Quite  a  bunch  of  sprouts 
had  started  from  near  the  top  of  each  stub,  and 
were  growing  luxuriantly.  Out  of  each  bunch  I 
selected  three  or  four  to  form  the  head ;  the  rest 
were  rubbed  off  or  cut  out  with  a  sharp  knife  or 
pruning  shears.  It  surprised  me  to  see  what  a 
growth  some  of  these  sprouts  had  made ;  sixteen 
or  eighteen  inches  was  not  uncommon.  Big 
roots  and  big  bodies  were  pushing  great  quanti- 
ties of  sap  toward  the  tops. 

Of  course  I  bought  farm  machinery  during 
this  first  season,  —  mower,  reaper,  corn  reaper, 
shredder,  and  so  on.  In  October  I  took  account 
of  expenditures  for  machinery,  grass  seed,  and 
fertilizer,  and  found  that  I  had  invested  $833.  I 
had  also,  at  an  expense  of  $850,  built  a  large 
shed  or  tool-house  for  farm  implements.  It  is 
one  of  the  rules  at  Four  Oaks  to  grease  and 
house  all  tools  when  not  in  actual  use.  I  be- 
lieve the  observation  of  this  rule  has  paid  for  the 
shed. 


170  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

In  October  1896  I  had  a  good  offer  for  my  town 
house,  and  accepted  it.  I  had  purchased  the 
property  eleven  years  before  for  122,000,  but,  as 
it  was  in  bad  condition,  I  had  at  once  spent 
19000  on  it  and  the  stable.  I  sold  it  for  134,000, 
with  the  understanding  that  I  could  occupy  it 
for  the  balance  of  the  year  if  I  wished. 

After  selling  the  house,  I  calculated  the  cost 
of  the  elementary  necessities,  food  and  shelter, 
which  I  had  been  willing  to  pay  during  many 
years  of  residence  in  the  city.  The  record  ran 
about  like  this  :  — 


Interest  at  5%  on  house  valued  at  $34,000 
Yearly  taxes  on  same 

Insurance        

Fuel  and  light         .... 
Wages  for  one  man  and  three  women 
Street  sprinkling,  watchman,  etc.  . 
Food,  including  water,  ice,  etc. 
Making  a  total  of 


$1700.00 

340.00 

80.00 

250.00 

1200.00 

90.00 

1550.00 

$5210.00 


It  cost  me  $100  a  week  to  shelter  and  feed  my 
family  in  the  city.  This,  of  course,  took  no  ac- 
count of  personal  expenses,  —  travel,  sight-seeing, 
clothing,  books,  gifts,  or  the  thousand  and  one 
things  which  enter  more  or  less  prominently 
into  the  everyday  life  of  the  family. 

If  the  farm  was  to  furnish  food  and  shelter 
for  us  in  the  future,  it  would  be  no  more  than 
fair  to  credit  it  with  some  portion  of  this  expendi- 
ture, which  was  to  cease  when  we  left  the  city 
home.  What  portion  of  it  could  be  justly  cred- 
ited to  the  farm  was  to  be  decided  by  compara- 


FROM  CITY  TO  COUNTRY  171 

tive  comforts  after  a  year  of  experience.  I  did 
not  plan  our  exodus  for  the  sake  of  economy,  or 
because  I  found  it  necessary  to  retrench ;  our 
rate  of  living  was  no  higher  than  we  were  will- 
ing and  able  to  afford.  Our  object  was  to  change 
occupation  and  mode  of  life  without  financial 
loss,  and  without  moulting  a  single  comfort.  We 
wished  to  end  our  days  close  to  the  land,  and  we 
hoped  to  prove  that  this  could  be  done  with  both 
grace  and  profit.  I  had  no  desire  to  lose  touch 
with  the  city,  and  there  was  no  necessity  for  do- 
ing so.  Four  Oaks  is  less  than  an  hour  from  the 
heart  of  town.  I  could  leave  it,  spend  two  or 
three  hours  in  town,  and  be  back  in  time  for 
luncheon  without  special  effort ;  and  Polly  would 
think  nothing  of  a  shopping  trip  and  friends 
home  with  her  to  dinner.  The  people  of  Exeter 
were  nearly  all  city  people  who  were  so  fortunate 
as  not  to  be  slaves  to  long  hours.  They  were 
rich  by  work  or  by  inheritance,  and  they  grace- 
fully accepted  the  otium  cum  dignitate  which  this 
condition  permitted.  Social  life  was  at  its  best 
in  Exeter,  and  many  of  its  people  were  old 
acquaintances  of  ours.  A  noted  country  club 
spread  its  broad  acres  within  two  miles  of  our 
door,  and  I  had  been  favorably  posted  for  mem- 
bership. It  did  not  look  as  though  we  should 
be  thrust  entirely  upon  our  own  resources  in  the 
country ;  but  at  the  worst  we  had  resources 
within  our  own  walls  and  fences  that  would  fend 
off  all  but  the  most  violent  attacks  of  ennui. 


172  THE  EAT  OF  THE  LAND 

We  were  both  keenly  interested  in  the  experi- 
ment. Nothing  that  happened  on  the  farm  went 
unchallenged.  The  milk  product  for  the  day  was 
a  thing  of  interest ;  the  egg  count  could  not  go 
unnoted  ;  a  hatch  of  chickens  must  be  seen  before 
they  left  the  incubator ;  a  litter  of  new-born  pigs 
must  be  admired ;  horses  and  cows  were  forever 
doing  things  which  they  should  or  should  not 
do ;  men  and  maids  had  griefs  and  joys  to  share 
with  mistress  or  Headman  ;  flowers  were  bloom- 
ing, trees  were  leafing,  a  robin  had  built  in  the 
black  oak,  a  gopher  was  tunnelling  the  rose  bed, 
—  a  thousand  things,  full  of  interest,  were  hap- 
pening every  day.  As  a  place  where  things  the 
most  unexpected  do  happen,  recommend  me  to  a 
quiet  farm. 

But  we  were  not  to  depend  entirely  upon  out- 
side things  for  diversion.  Books  we  had  galore, 
and  we  both  loved  them.  Many  a  charming  even- 
ing have  I  spent,  sometimes  alone,  more  often 
with  two  or  three  congenial  friends,  listening  to 
Polly's  reading.  This  is  one  of  her  most  delight- 
ful accomplishments.  Her  friends  never  tire  of 
her  voice,  and  her  voice  never  tires  of  her  friends. 
We  all  grow  lazy  when  she  is  about ;  but  there 
are  worse  things  than  indolence.  No,  we  did 
not  mean  to  drop  out  of  anything  worth  while ; 
but  we  were  pretty  well  provisioned  against  a 
siege,  if  inclement  weather  or  some  other  acci- 
dent should  lock  us  up  at  the  farm. 

To  keep  still  better  hold  of  the  city,  I  sug- 


FROM  CITY  TO  COUNTRY  173 

gested  to  Tom  and  Kate  that  they  should  keep 
open  house  for  us,  or  any  part  of  us,  whenever 
we  were  inclined  to  take  advantage  of  their  hos- 
pitality. This  would  give  us  city  refuge  after 
late  functions  of  all  sorts.  The  plan  has  worked 
admirably.  I  devote  $1200  a  year  out  of  the 
$5200  of  food-and-shelter  money  to  the  support 
of  our  city  shelter  at  Kate's  house,  and  the  bal- 
ance, $4000,  is  entered  at  the  end  of  each  year 
on  the  credit  side  of  the  farm  ledger.  Nor  do  I 
think  this  in  any  way  unjust.  We  do  not  expect 
to  get  things  for  nothing,  and  we  do  not  wish  to. 
If  the  things  we  pay  for  now  are  as  valuable  as 
those  we  paid  for  six  or  eight  years  ago,  we 
ought  not  to  find  fault  with  an  equal  price.  I 
have  repeatedly  polled  the  family  on  this  ques- 
tion, and  we  all  agree  that  we  have  lost  nothing 
by  the  change,  and  that  we  have  gained  a  great 
deal  in  several  ways.  Our  friends  are  of  like 
opinion;  and  I  am  therefore  justified  in  credit- 
ing Four  Oaks  with  a  considerable  sum  for  food 
and  shelter.  We  have  bettered  our  condition 
without  foregoing  anything,  and  without  increas- 
ing our  expenses^     That  is  enough. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

AUTUMN    RECKONING 

We  harvested  the  crops  in  the  autumn  of  1896, 
and  were  thankful  for  the  bountiful  yield.  Nearly 
sixteen  hundred  bushels  of  oats  and  twenty-seven 
hundred  bushels  of  corn  made  a  proud  showing 
in  the  granary,  when  added  to  its  previous  stock. 
The  corn  fodder,  shredded  by  our  own  men  and 
machine,  made  the  great  forage  barn  look  like 
an  overflowing  cornucopia,  and  the  only  extra 
expense  attending  the  harvest  was  $31  paid  for 
threshing  the  oats. 

Three  important  items  of  food  are  consumed 
on  the  farm  that  have  to  be  purchased  each  year, 
and  as  there  is  not  much  fluctuation  in  the  price 
paid,  we  may  as  well  settle  the  per  capita  rate 
for  the  milch  cows  and  hogs  for  once  and  all. 
At  each  year's  end  we  can  then  easily  find  the 
cash  outlay  for  the  herds  by  multiplying  the 
number  of  stock  by  the  cost  of  keeping  one. 

My  Holstein  cows  consume  a  trifle  less  than 
three  tons  of  grain  each  per  year,  —  about  fifteen 
pounds  a  day.  Taking  the  ration  for  four  cows 
as  a  matter  of  convenience,  we  have :  corn  and 

174 


AUTUMN  RECKONING  175 

cob  meal,  three  tons,  and  oatmeal,  three  tons, 
both  kinds  raised  and  ground  on  the  farm,  and 
not  charged  in  this  account ;  wheat  bran,  three 
tons  at  $18,  $54 ;  gluten  meal,  two  tons  at  $24, 
$48 ;  oil  meal,  one  ton,  $26 ;  total  cash  outlay 
for  four  cows,  $128,  or  $32  per  head.  This  esti- 
mate is,  however,  about  $2  too  liberal.  We  will, 
hereafter,  charge  each  milch  cow  $30,  and  will 
also  charge  each  hog  fattened  on  the  place  $1  for 
shorts  and  middlings  consumed.  This  is  not 
exact,  but  it  is  near  enough,  and  it  greatly  sim- 
plifies accounts. 

As  I  kept  twenty-six  cows  ten  months,  and 
ten  more  for  an  average  of  four  and  a  half 
months,  the  feeding  for  1896  would  be  equivalent 
to  one  year  for  thirty  cows,  or  $900.  To  this 
add  $120  for  swine  food  and  $25  for  grits  and 
oyster  shells  for  the  chickens,  and  we  have  $1045 
paid  for  food  for  stock.  Shoeing  the  horses  for 
the  year  and  repairs  to  machinery  cost  $157. 
The  purchased  food  for  eight  employees  for 
twelve  months  and  for  two  additional  ones  for 
eight  months,  amounted  to  $734.  The  wage 
account,  including  $50  extra  to  Thompson,  was 
$2358. 

A  second  hen-house,  a  duplicate  of  the  first, 
was  built  before  October.  It  was  intended  that 
each  house  should  accommodate  four  hundred 
laying  hens.  We  have  now  on  the  place  five  of 
these  houses  ;  but  only  two  of  them,  besides  the 
incubator  and  the  brooder-house,  were  built  in 


176  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

1896.  As  offset  to  the  heavy  expenditure  of  this 
year,  I  had  not  much  to  show.  Seven  hundred 
cockerels  were  sold  in  November  for  $342.  In 
October  the  pullets  began  laying  in  desultory 
fashion,  and  by  November  they  had  settled  down 
to  business ;  and  that  quarter  they  gave  me  703 
dozen  eggs  to  sell.  As  these  eggs  were  marketed 
within  twenty-four  hours,  and  under  a  guarantee, 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  thirty  cents  a  dozen, 
net.  November  eggs  brought  $211,  and  the 
December  out-put,  $252.  I  sold  600  bushels  of 
potatoes  for  $150,  and  the  apples  from  150  of  the 
old  trees  (which,  by  the  way,  were  greatly 
improved  this  year)  brought  $450  on  the 
trees. 

The  cows  did  well.  In  the  thirty-three  weeks 
from  May  12  to  December  31,  I  sold  a  little  more 
than  6600  pounds  of  butter,  which  netted  me 
$2127. 

We  had  122  young  hogs  to  sell  in  December. 
They  had  been  crowded  as  fast  as  possible  to 
make  good  weight,  and  they  went  to  market  at 
an  average  of  290  pounds  a  head.  The  price  was 
low,  but  I  got  the  top  of  the  market, — $3.55  a 
hundred,  which  amounted  to  $1170  after  paying 
charges.  I  had  reserved  twenty-five  of  the  most 
likely  young  sows  to  stay  on  the  farm,  and  had 
transferred  eight  to  the  village  butcher,  who  was 
to  return  them  in  the  shape  of  two  barrels  of 
salt  pork,  thirty-two  smoked  hams  and  shoulders, 
and  a  lot  of  bacon. 


AUTUMN  RECKONING  177 

The  old  sows  farrowed  again  in  September 
and  early  October,  and  we  went  into  the  winter 
with  162  young  pigs.  I  get  these  details  out  of 
the  way  now  in  order  to  turn  to  the  family  and 
the  social  side  of  life  at  Four  Oaks. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE    CHILDREN 

The  house  did  not  progress  as  fast  as  Nelson 
had  promised,  and  it  was  likely  to  be  well 
toward  Christmas  before  we  could  occupy  it. 
As  the  days  shortened,  Polly  and  I  found  them 
crowded  with  interests.  Life  at  Four  Oaks  was 
to  mean  such  a  radical  change  that  we  could  not 
help  speculating  about  its  influence  upon  us  and 
upon  the  children.  Would  it  be  satisfactory  to 
us  and  to  them  ?  Or  should  we  find  after  a  year 
or  two  of  experiment  that  we  had  been  mistaken 
in  believing  that  we  could  live  happier  lives  in 
the  country  than  in  town  ?  A  year  and  a  half 
of  outdoor  life  and  freedom  from  professional 
responsibilities  had  wrought  a  great  change  in 
me.  I  could  now  eat  and  sleep  like  a  hired  man, 
and  it  seemed  preposterous  to  claim  that  I  was 
going  to  the  country  for  my  health.  My  medical 
adviser,  however,  insisted  that  I  had  not  gotten 
far  enough  away  from  the  cause  of  my  break- 
down, and  that  it  would  be  unwise  for  me  to 
take  up  work  again  for  at  least  another  year. 
In  my  own  mind  there  was  a  fixed  opinion  that 
I    should    never   take    it   up   again.     I  loved  it 

178 


THE  CHILDREN  179 

dearly ;  but  I  had  given  long,  hard  service  to  it, 
and  felt  that  I  had  earned  the  right  to  freedom 
from  its  exacting  demands.  I  have  never  lost 
interest  in  this,  the  noblest  of  professions,  but  I 
had  done  my  share,  and  was  now  willing  to 
watch  the  work  of  others.  In  my  mind  there 
was  no  doubt  about  the  desirability  of  the 
change.  I  have  always  loved  the  thought  of 
country  life,  and  now  that  my  thoughts  were 
taking  material  shape,  I  was  keen  to  push  on. 
Polly  looked  toward  the  untrammelled  life  we 
hoped  to  lead  with  as  great  pleasure  as  I. 

But  how  about  the  children  ?  Would  it 
appeal  to  them  with  the  same  force  as  to  us? 
The  children  have  thus  far  been  kept  in  the 
background.  I  wanted  to  start  my  factory  farm 
and  to  get  through  with  most  of  its  dull  details 
before  introducing  them  to  the  reader,  lest  I 
should  be  diverted  from  the  business  to  the 
domestic,  or  social,  proposition. 

The  farm  is  laid  by  for  the  winter,  and  most 
of  the  details  needed  for  a  just  comprehension  of 
our  experiment  have  been  given.  From  this  time 
on  we  will  deal  chiefly  with  results.  We  will 
watch  the  out-put  from  the  factory,  and  com- 
mend  or   find   fault   as   the   case  may  deserve. 

The  social  side  of  life  is  quite  as  important  as 
the  commercial,  for  though  we  gain  money,  if  we 
lose  happiness,  what  profit  have  we  ?  Let  us 
study  the  children  to  see  what  chances  for  happi- 
ness and  good  fellowship  lie  in  them. 


180  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

Kate  is  our  first-born.  She  is  a  bright,  beauti- 
ful woman  of  five-and-twenty,  who  has  had  a 
husband  these  six  years,  one  daughter  for  four 
years,  and,  wonderful  to  relate,  another  daughter 
for  two  years.  She  is  quick  and  practical,  with 
strong  opinions  of  her  own,  prompt  with  advice 
and  just  as  prompt  with  aid ;  a  woman  with  a 
temper,  but  a  friend  to  tie  to  in  time  of  stress. 
She  has  the  education  of  a  good  school,  and  what 
is  infinitely  better,  the  cultivation  of  an  observ- 
ing mind.  She  is  quick  with  tongue  and  pen, 
but  her  quickness  is  so  tempered  by  unquestioned 
friendliness  that  it  fastens  people  to  her  as  with 
a  cord.  She  overflows  with  interests  of  every 
description,  but  she  is  never  too  busy  to  listen 
sympathetically  to  a  child  or  a  friend.  She  is 
the  practical  member  of  the  family,  and  we 
rarely  do  much  out  of  the  ordinary  without  first 
talking  it  over  with  Kate. 

Tom  Hamilton,  her  husband,  is  a  young  man 
who  is  getting  on  in  the  world.  He  is  clever  in 
his  profession,  and  sure  to  succeed  beyond  the 
success  of  most  men.  He  is  quiet  in  manner, 
but  he  seems  to  have  a  way  of  managing  his 
quick,  handsome  wife,  which  is  something  of  a 
surprise  to  me,  and  to  her  also,  I  fancy.  They 
are  congenial  and  happy,  and  their  children  are 
beings  to  adore.  Tom  and  Kate  are  to  live  in 
town.  They  are  too  young  for  the  joys  of  coun- 
try life,  and  must  needs  drag  on  as  they  are, 
loved  and  admired  by  a  host  of  friends.     They 


THE  CHILDREN  181 

can,  and  will,  however,  spend  much  time  at  Four 
Oaks ;  and  I  need  not  say  they  approved  our 
plans. 

Jack  is  our  second.  He  was  a  junior  at  Yale, 
and  I  am  shy  of  saying  much  about  him  lest  I 
be  accused  of  partiality.  Enough  to  say  that  he 
is  tall,  blond,  handsome,  and  that  he  has  gentle, 
winning  ways  that  draw  the  love  of  men  and 
women.  He  is  a  dreamer  of  dreams,  but  he  has 
a  sturdy  drop  of  Puritan  blood  in  his  veins  that 
makes  him  strong  in  conviction  and  brave  in 
action.  Jack  has  never  caused  me  an  hour  of 
anxiety,  and  I  was  ever  proud  to  see  him  in  any 
company. 

Concerning  Jane,  I  must  be  pardoned  in  ad- 
vance for  a  father's  favoritism.  She  is  my 
youngest,  and  to  me  she  seems  all  that  a  father 
could  wish.  Of  fair  height  and  well  moulded, 
her  physique  is  perfect.  Good  health  and  a 
happy  life  had  set  the  stamp  of  superb  woman- 
hood upon  her  eighteen  years.  Any  effort  to 
describe  her  would  be  vain  and  unsatisfactory. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  she  is  a  pure  blonde,  with 
eyes,  hair,  and  skin  just  to  my  liking.  She  is 
quiet  and  shy  in  manner,  deliberate  in  speech, 
sensitive  beyond  measure,  wise  in  intuitive  judg- 
ment, clever  in  history  and  literature,  but  always 
a  little  in  doubt  as  to  the  result  of  putting  seven 
and  eight  together,  and  not  unreasonably  domi- 
nated by  the  rules  of  orthography.  She  is  fond 
of  outdoor  life,  in  love  with  horses   and  dogs, 


182  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  withal  very  much  of  a  home  girl.  Every  one 
makes  much  of  Jane,  and  she  is  not  spoiled,  but 
rather  improved  by  it.  She  was  in  her  second 
year  at  Farmington,  and,  like  all  Farmington 
students,  she  cared  more  for  girls  than  for  boys. 
These  were  the  children  whom  I  was  to  trans- 
port from  the  city,  where  they  were  born,  to  the 
quiet  life  at  Four  Oaks.  After  carefully  taking 
their  measures,  I  felt  little  hesitation  about  mak- 
ing the  change.  They,  of  course,  had  known  of 
the  plan,  and  had  often  been  to  the  farm ;  but 
they  were  still  to  find  out  what  it  really  meant 
to  live  there.  A  saddle  horse  and  dogs  galore 
would  square  me  with  Jane,  beyond  question  ; 
but  what  about  Jack?  Time  must  decide  that. 
His  plan  of  life  was  not  yet  formed,  and  we 
could  afford  to  wait.  We  did  not  have  much 
time  in  which  to  weigh  these  matters,  for  the 
Christmas  holidays  were  near,  and  the  young- 
sters would  soon  be  home.  We  planned  to  be 
settled  in  the  new  house  when  they  arrived. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 


THE    HOME-COMING 


In  arranging  to  move  my  establishment  I  was 
in  a  quandary  as  to  what  it  was  best  to  do  for 
a  coachman.  Lars  had  been  with  me  fifteen 
years.  He  came  a  green  Swedish  lad,  developed 
into  a  first-class  coachman,  married  a  nice  girl  — 
and  for  twelve  years  he  and  his  wife  lived  hap- 
pily in  the  rooms  above  my  stable.  Two  boys 
were  born  to  them,  and  these  lads  were  now  ten 
and  twelve  years  of  age.  Shortly  after  I  bought 
the  farm  Lars  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose  his 
good  wife,  and  he  and  the  boys  were  left  forlorn. 
A  relative  came  and  gave  them  such  care  as  she 
could,  but  the  mother  and  wife  was  missed  be- 
yond remedy.  In  his  depression  Lars  took  to 
drink,  and  things  began  to  go  wrong  in  the  stable. 
He  was  not  often  drunk,  but  he  was  much  of  the 
time  under  the  influence  of  alcohol,  and  conse- 
quently not  reliable.  I  had  done  my  best  for 
the  poor  fellow,  and  he  took  my  lectures  and 
chidings  in  the  way  they  were  intended,  and,  in- 
deed, he  tried  hard  to  break  loose  from  the  one  bad 
habit,  but  with  no  good  results.  His  evil  friends 
had  such  strong  hold  on  him  that  they  could  and 

183 


184  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

would  lead  him  astray  whenever  there  was  op- 
portunity. Polly  and  I  had  many  talks  about 
this  matter.  She  was  growing  timid  under  his 
driving,  and  yet  she  was  attached  to  him  for  long 
and  faithful  service. 

"  Let's  chance  it,"  she  said.  "  If  we  get  him 
away  from  these  people  who  lead  him  astray,  he 
may  brace  up  and  become  a  man  again." 

"  But  what  about  the  boys,  Polly  ?  "  said  I. 

"  We  ought  to  be  able  to  find  something  for 
the  boys  to  do  on  the  farm,  and  they  can  go  to 
school  at  Exeter.  Can't  they  drive  the  butter- 
cart  out  each  morning  and  home  after  school  ? 
They're  smart  chaps,  you  know,  and  used  to 
doing  things." 

Polly  had  found  a  way,  and  I  was  heartily 
glad  of  it,  for  I  did  not  feel  like  giving  up  my 
hold  on  the  man  and  the  boys.  Lars  was  glad 
of  the  chance  to  make  good  again,  and  he  will- 
ingly agreed  to  go.  He  was  to  receive  $23  a 
month.  This  was  less  than  he  was  getting  in 
the  city,  but  it  was  the  wage  which  we  were 
paying  that  year  at  the  farm,  and  he  was  con- 
tent ;  for  the  boys  were  each  to  receive  15  a 
month,  and  to  be  sent  to  school  eight  months 
a  year  for  three  years. 

This  matter  arranged,  we  began  to  plan  for 
the  moving.  I  had  five  horses  in  my  stable,  —  a 
span  of  blacks  for  the  carriage  and  three  single 
drivers.  Besides  the  horses,  harness,  and  equip- 
ment, there  was  a  large  carriage,  a  brougham,  a 


THE  HOME-COMING  185 

Goddard  phaeton,  a  runabout,  and  a  cart.  I  ex- 
changed the  brougham  and  the  Goddard  for  a 
station  wagon  and  a  park  phaeton,  as  more  suit- 
able for  country  use. 

The  barn  equipment  was  all  sent  in  one  cara- 
van, Thompson  and  Zeb  coming  into  town  to 
help  Lars  drive  out.  Our  lares  and  penates 
were  sent  by  freight  on  December  17.  Polly 
had  managed  to  coax  another  thousand  dollars 
out  of  me  for  things  for  the  house ;  and  these, 
with  the  furniture  from  our  old  home,  made  a 
brave  showing  when  we  gathered  around  the  big 
fire  in  the  living  room,  December  22,  for  our  first 
night  in  the  country. 

Tom,  Kate,  and  the  grand-girls  were  with  us 
to  spend  the  holidays,  and  so,  too,  was  the  lady 
whom  we  call  Laura.  I  shall  not  try  to  say 
much  about  Laura.  She  was  a  somewhat  recent 
friend.  How  we  ever  came  to  know  her  well,  was 
half  a  mystery ;  and  how  we  ever  got  on  before 
we  knew  her  well,  was  a  whole  one. 

Roaring  fires  and  shaded  lamps  gave  an  air  of 
homelike  grace  to  our  new  house,  and  we  decided 
that  we  would  never  economize  in  either  wood 
or  oil ;  they  seemed  to  stir  the  home  spirit  more 
than  ever  did  coal  or  electricity. 

The  day  had  been  a  busy  one  for  the  ladies, 
but  they  were  pleased  with  results  as  they  looked 
around  the  well-ordered  house  and  saw  the  work 
of  their  hands.  Before  separating  for  the  night, 
Kate  said  :  — 


186  THE  FAT  OF  THE   LAND 

"  I'm  going  to  town  to-morrow,  and  I'll  pick 
up  Jane  and  Jack  in  time  to  take  the  four  o'clock 
train  out.  Papa  will  meet  us  at  the  station,  and 
Momee  will  greet  us  at  the  doorstep.  Make  an 
illumination,  Momee,  and  we  will  carry  them  by 
storm.  Tom  will  have  to  take  a  later  train,  but 
he  will  be  here  in  time  for  dinner." 

The  afternoon  of  the  23d,  the  children  came, 
and  there  was  no  failure  in  Kate's  plan.  The 
youngsters  were  delighted  with  everything. 
Jane  said :  — 

"  I  always  wanted  to  live  on  a  farm.  I  can 
have  a  saddle  horse  now,  and  keep  as  many  dogs 
as  I  like,  can't  I,  Dad  ?  " 

"  You  shall  have  the  horse,  and  the  dogs,  too, 
when  you  come  to  stay." 

"Daddy,"  said  Jack,  "this  will  be  great  for 
you.  Let  me  finish  at  an  agricultural  college,  so 
that  I  can  be  of  some  practical  help." 

"  Not  on  your  life,  my  son  !  What  your  daddy 
doesn't  know  about  farming  wouldn't  spoil  a  cup 
of  tea !  While  you  are  at  home  I  will  give  you 
daily  instruction  in  this  most  wholesome  and  in- 
dependent business,  which  will  be  of  incalculable 
benefit  to  you,  and  which,  I  am  frank  to  say, 
you  cannot  get  in  any  agricultural  college.  Col- 
lege, indeed !  I  have  spent  thousands  of  hours 
in  dreaming  and  planning  what  a  farm  should 
be  like  !  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  let  these 
visions  become  contaminated  by  practical  knowl- 
edge ?      Not  by   a   long  way !     I   have,  in    the 


THE   HOME-COMING  187 

silent  watches  of  the  night,  reduced  the  art  to 
mathematical  exactness,  and  I  can  show  you  the 
figures.     Don't  talk  to  me  about  colleges ! " 

After  supper  we  took  the  children  through  the 
house.  Every  part  was  inspected,  and  many 
were  the  expressions  of  pleasure  and  admiration. 
They  were  delighted  with  their  rooms,  and 
apparently  with  everything  else.  We  finally 
quieted  down  in  front  of  the  open  fire  and 
discussed  plans  for  the  holidays.  The  children 
decided  that  it  must  be  a  house  party. 

"  Florence  Marcy  is  with  an  aunt  for  whom 
she  doesn't  particularly  care,  and  Minnie  will 
just  jump  at  the  chance  of  spending  a  week  in 
the  country,"  said  Jane. 

"  You  can  invite  three  girls,  and  Jack  can  have 
three  men.  Of  course  Jessie  Gordon  will  be 
here.  We  will  drive  over  in  the  morning  and 
make  sure  of  her." 

"  Jack,  whom  will  you  ask  ?  Get  some  good 
men  out  here,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  The  best  in  the  world,  little  sister,  and  you 
will  have  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  or  you  will 
lose  your  heart  to  one  of  them.  Frank  Howard 
will  count  it  a  lark.  He  has  stuck  to  the  "  busi- 
ness "  as  faithfully  as  if  he  were  not  heir  to  it, 
and  he  will  come  sure  to-morrow  night.  Dear 
old  Phil  —  my  many  years'  chum  —  will  come 
because  I  ask  him.  These  two  are  all  right,  and 
we  can  count  on  them.  The  other  one  is  Jim 
Jarvis,  —  the  finest  man  in  college," 


188  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"  Yell  us  about  him,  Jack." 

"  Jarvis's  father  lives  in  Montana,  and  has  a 
lot  of  gold  mines  and  other  things  to  keep  him 
busy.  He  doesn't  have  time  to  pay  much  atten- 
tion to  his  son,  who  is  growing  up  after  his  own 
fashion.  Jim's  mother  is  dead,  and  he  has 
neither  brother  nor  sister,  —  nothing  but  money 
and  beauty  and  health  and  strength  and 
courage  and  sense  and  the  stanchest  heart 
that  ever  lifted  waistcoat !  He  has  been  on  the 
eleven  three  years.  They  want  him  in  the  boat, 
but  he'll  not  have  it ;  says  it's  not  good  work 
for  a  man.  He's  in  the  first  division,  well 
toward  the  front,  too,  and  in  the  best  society. 
He's  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  and  I'm  dead  gone  on 
him.  He's  the  man  for  you  to  shun,  little 
woman,  unless  you  wish  to  be  led  captive." 

"  There  are  others,  Jack,  so  don't  worry  about 
me.  But  do  you  think  you  can  secure  this 
paragon  ?  " 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it !  I'll  wire  him  in  the 
morning,  and  he'll  be  here  as  soon  as  steam  can 
bring  him  ;  he's  my  best  chum,  you  know." 

This  would  make  our  party  complete.  We 
were  all  happy  and  pleased,  and  the  evening 
passed  before  we  knew  it. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

CHRISTMAS    EVE 

The  next  day  was  a  busy  one  for  all  of  us. 
Polly  and  Jane  drove  to  the  Gordons  and  secured 
Miss  Jessie,  and  then  Jane  went  to  town  to  fetch 
her  other  friends.  Jack  went  with  her,  after 
having  telegraphed  to  Jim  Jarvis.  They  all 
came  home  by  mid-afternoon,  just  as  a  message 
came  from  Jarvis  :  "  Will  be  on  deck  at  six." 

Florence  Marcy  and  Minnie  Henderson  were 
former  neighbors  and  schoolmates  of  Jane's. 
They  were  fine  girls  to  look  at  and  bright  girls 
to  talk  with  ;  blondes,  eighteen,  high-headed,  full 
of  life,  and  great  girls  for  a  house  party.  Phil 
and  Frank  were  good  specimens  of  their  kinds. 
Frank  was  a  little  below  medium  height,  slight, 
blond,  vivacious  to  a  degree,  full  of  fun,  and 
the  most  industrious  talker  within  miles ;  he 
would  "stir  things  up"  at  a  funeral.  Phil 
Stone  was  tall,  slender,  dark,  quiet,  well-dressed, 
a  good  dancer,  and  a  very  agreeable  fellow  in 
the  corner  of  the  room,  where  his  low  musical 
voice  was  most  effective. 

Jessie  Gordon  came  at  five  o'clock.  We  were  all 
very  fond  of  Jessie,  and  who  could  help  it  ?    She 

189 


190  THE   FAT  OF   THE  LAND 

was  tall  (considerably  above  the  average  height), 
slender,  straight  as  an  arrow,  graceful  in  repose 
and  in  motion.  She  carried  herself  like  a  queen, 
with  a  proud  kind  of  shyness  that  became  her  well. 
Her  head  was  small  and  well  set  on  a  slender  neck, 
her  hair  dark,  luxurious,  wavy,  and  growing 
low  over  a  broad  forehead,  her  eyes  soft  brown, 
shaded  by  heavy  brows  and  lashes.  She  had  a 
Grecian  nose,  and  her  mouth  was  a  shade  too 
wide,  but  it  was  guarded  by  singularly  perfect 
and  sensitive  lips.  Her  chin  was  pronounced 
enough  to  give  the  impression  of  firmness  ;  in- 
deed, save  for  the  soft  eyes  and  sensitive  mouth, 
firmness  predominated.  She  was  not  a  great 
talker,  yet  every  one  loved  to  listen  to  her. 
She  laughed  with  her  eyes  and  lips,  but  rarely 
with  her  voice.  She  enjoyed  intensely,  and 
could,  therefore,  suffer  intensely.  She  was  a 
dear  girl  in  every  way. 

All  was  now  ready  for  the  debut  of  Jack's 
paragon.  Jack  had  driven  to  the  station  to 
fetch  him,  and  presently  the  sound  of  wheels  on 
the  gravel  drive  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
last  guest.  I  went  into  the  hall  to  meet  the 
men. 

"  Daddy,  I  want  you  to  know  my  chum,  Jim 
Jarvis,  —  the  finest  all-round  son  of  old  Eli. 
Jarvis,  this  is  my  daddy,  —  the  finest  father  that 
ever  had  son  !  " 

"  I'm  right  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Jarvis ;  your 
renown  has  preceded  you," 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  191 

"  I  fear,  Doctor,  it  has  exceeded  me  as  well. 
Jack  is  not  to  be  trusted  on  all  subjects.  But, 
indeed,  I  thank  you  for  your  hospitality ;  it 
was  a  godsend  to  me." 

As  we  entered  the  living  room,  Polly  came 
forward  and  I  presented  Jarvis  to  her. 

"  You  are  more  than  welcome,  Mr.  Jarvis ! 
Jack's  <  best  friend '  is  certain  of  a  warm  corner 
at  our  fireside." 

« Madam,  I  find  no  word  of  thanks,  but  I  do 
thank  you.  I  have  envied  Jack  his  home  letters 
and  the  evidences  of  mother  care  more  than  any- 
thing else,  —  and  God  knows  there  are  enough 
other  things  to  envy  him  for.  I  have  no  mother, 
and  my  father  is  too  busy  to  pay  much  attention 
to  me.  I  wish  you  would  adopt  me ;  I'll  try  to 
rival  Jack  in  all  that  is  dutiful." 

She  did  adopt  him  then  and  there,  for  who 
could  refuse  such  a  son  !  Brown  hair,  brown 
eyes,  brown  skin,  a  frank,  rugged,  clean-shaven 
face,  features  strong  enough  to  excite  criticism 
and  good  enough  to  bear  it ;  broad-shouldered, 
deep-chested,  strong  in  arm  and  limb,  he  carried 
his  six  feet  of  manhood  like  an  Apollo  in  tweeds. 
He  was  introduced  to  the  girls,  —  the  men  he 
knew,  —  but  he  was  not  so  quick  in  his  speeches 
to  them.  Our  Hercules  was  only  mildly  con- 
scious of  his  merits,  and  was  evidently  relieved 
when  Jack  hurried  him  off  to  his  room  to  dress 
for  dinner.  When  he  was  fairly  out  of  hearing 
there   was   a  chorus  of   comments.      The   girls 


192  THE   FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

all  declaimed  him  handsome,  and  the  boys 
said :  — 

"That  isn't  the  best  of  it,  —  he's  a  trump! 
Wait  till  you  know  him." 

Jane  was  too  loyal  to  Jack  to  admit  that  his 
friend  was  any  handsomer  or  in  any  way  a 
finer  fellow  than  her  brother. 

"  Who  said  he  was  ?  "  said  Frank.  "  Jack 
Williams  is  out  and  out  the  finest  man  I  know. 
We  were  sizing  him  up  by  such  fellows  as  Phil 
and  me." 

"  Jack's  the  most  popular  man  at  Yale,"  said 
Phil,  "  but  he's  too  modest  to  know  it ;  Jarvis 
will  tell  you  so.  He  thinks  it's  a  great  snap  to 
have  Jack  for  his  chum." 

These  things  were  music  in  my  ears,  for  I  was 
quite  willing  to  agree  with  the  boys,  and  the 
mother's  eyes  were  full  of  joy  as  she  led  the 
way  to  the  dining  room.  That  was  a  jolly 
meal.  Nothing  was  said  that  could  be  remem- 
bered, and  yet  we  all  talked  a  great  deal  and 
laughed  a  great  deal  more.  City,  country,  farm, 
college,  and  seminary  were  touched  with  merry 
jests.  Light  wit  provoked  heavy  laughter,  and 
every  one  was  the  better  for  it.  It  was  nine  o'clock 
before  we  left  the  table.     I  heard  Jarvis  say  :  — 

"Miss  Jane,  I  count  it  very  unkind  of  Jack 
not  to  have  let  me  go  to  Farmington  with  him 
last  term.  He  used  to  talk  of  his  '  little  sister ' 
as  though  she  were  a  miss  in  short  dresses.  Jack 
is  a  deep  and  treacherous  fellow ! " 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  193 

"Rather  say,  a  very  prudent  brother,"  said 
Jane.  "  However,  you  may  come  to  the  Elm 
Tree  Inn  in  the  spring  term,  if  Jack  will  let 
you." 

"  I'll  work  him  all  winter,"  was  Jarvis's  reply. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

CHRISTMAS 

Christmas  light  was  slow  in  coming.  There 
was  a  hush  in  the  air  as  if  the  earth  were 
padded  so  that  even  the  footsteps  of  Nature 
might  not  be  heard.  Out  of  my  window  I  saw 
that  a  great  fall  of  snow  had  come  in  the  night. 
The  whole  landscape  was  covered  by  fleecy  down 
—  soft  and  white  as  it  used  to  be  when  I  first 
saw  it  on  the  hills  of  New  England.  No  wind 
had  moved  it ;  it  lay  as  it  fell,  like  a  white 
mantle  thrown  lightly  over  the  world.  Great 
feathery  flakes  filled  the  air  and  gently  descended 
upon  the  earth,  like  that  beautiful  Spirit  that 
made  the  plains  of  Judea  bright  two  thousand 
years  ago.  It  seemed  a  fitting  emblem  of  that 
nature  which  covered  the  unloveliness  of  the 
world  by  His  own  beauty,  and  changed  the  dark 
spots  of  earth  to  pure  white. 

It  was  an  ideal  Christmas  morning,  —  clean 
and  beautiful.  Such  a  wealth  of  purity  was  in 
the  air  that  all  the  world  was  clothed  with  it. 
The  earth  accepted  the  beneficence  of  the  skies, 
and  the  trees  bent  in  thankfulness  for  their 
beautiful  covering.     It  was  a  morning  to  make 

194 


CHRISTMAS  195 

one  thoughtful,  —  to  make  one  thankful,  too,  for 
home  and  friends  and  country,  and  a  future  that 
could  be  earned,  where  the  white  folds  of  useful- 
ness and  purity  would  cover  man's  inheritance 
of  selfishness  and  passion. 

For  an  hour  I  watched  the  big  flakes  fall ; 
and,  as  I  watched,  I  dreamed  the  dream  of  peace 
for  all  the  world.  The  brazen  trumpet  of  war 
was  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  white  dove  of 
peace  had  built  her  nest  in  the  cannon's  mouth 
and  stopped  its  awful  roar.  The  federation  of 
the  world  was  secured  by  universal  intelligence 
and  community  of  interest.  Envy  and  selfish- 
ness and  hypocrisy,  and  evil  doing  and  evil 
speaking,  were  deeply  covered  by  the  snowy 
mantle  that  brought  "peace  on  earth  and  good 
will  to  men." 

My  dream  was  not  dispelled  by  any  rude 
awakening.  As  the  house  threw  off  the  fetters 
of  the  night  and  gradually  struggled  into  activity, 
it  was  in  such  a  fresh  and  loving  manner  and 
with  such  thoughtful  solicitude  for  each  member 
of  our  world,  that  I  walked  in  my  dream  all 
day. 

The  snow  fell  rapidly  till  noon,  and  then  the 
sun  came  forth  from  the  veil  of  clouds  and  cast 
its  southern  rays  across  the  white  expanse  with 
an  effect  that  drew  exclamations  of  delight  from 
all  who  had  eyes  to  see.  No  wind  stirred  the 
air,  but  ever  and  anon  a  bright  avalanche  would 
elide  from  bough  or  bush,  sparkle  and  gleam  as 


196  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

the  sun  caught  it,  and  then  sink  gently  into  the 
deep  lap  spread  below.  The  bough  would  spring 
as  if  to  catch  its  beautiful  load,  and,  failing  in 
this,  would  throw  up  its  head  and  try  to  look 
unconcerned,  —  though  quite  evidently  conscious 
of  its  bereavement. 

The  appearance  of  the  sun  brought  signs  of 
life  and  activity.  The  men  improvised  a  snow- 
plough,  the  strong  horses  floundering  in  front  of  it 
made  roads  and  paths  through  the  two  feet  of 
feathers  that  hid  the  world. 

After  lunch,  the  young  people  went  for  a  frolic 
in  the  snow.  Two  hours  later  the  shaking  of 
garments  and  stamping  of  feet  gave  evidence  of 
the  return  of  the  party.  Stepping  into  the  hall 
I  was  at  once  surrounded  by  the  handsomest 
troupe  of  Esquimaux  that  ever  invaded  the  tem- 
perate zone.  The  snow  clung  lovingly  to  their 
wet  clothing  and  would  not  be  shaken  off  ;  their 
cheeks  were  flushed,  their  eyes  bright,  and  their 
voices  pitched  at  an  out-of-doors  key. 

"  Away  to  your  rooms,  even*  one  of  you,  and 
get  into  dry  clothes,"  said  I.  "  Don't  dare  show 
yourselves  until  the  dinner  bell  rings.  I'll  send 
each  of  you  a  hot  negus,  —  it's  a  prescription  and 
must  be  taken  ;  I'm  a  tyrant  when  professional." 

We  saw  nothing  more  of  them  until  dinner. 
The  young  ladies  came  in  white,  with  their 
maiden  shoulders  losing  nothing  by  contact  with 
their  snow-white  gowns.  All  but  Miss  Jessie, 
whose  dress  was  a  pearl  velvet,  buttoned  close  to 


CHRISTMAS  197 

her  slender  throat.  I  loved  this  style  best,  but 
I  could  never  believe  that  anything  could  be 
prettier  than  Jane's  white  shoulders. 

The  table  was  loaded,  as  Christmas  tables 
should  be,  and,  as  I  asked  God's  blessing  on  it 
and  us,  the  thought  came  that  the  answer  had 
preceded  the  request  and  that  we  were  blessed 
in  unusual  degree. 

After  dinner  the  rugs  in  the  great  room  were 
rolled  up,  and  the  young  folks  danced  to  Laura's 
music,  which  could  inspire  unwilling  feet.  But 
there  were  none  such  that  night.  Tom  and  Kate 
led  off  in  the  newest  and  most  fantastic  waltz, 
others  followed,  and  Polly  and  I  were  the  only 
spectators.  An  hour  of  this,  and  then  we  gath- 
ered around  the  hearth  to  hear  Polly  read  "The 
Christmas  Carol."  No  one  reads  like  Polly. 
Her  low,  soft  voice  seems  never  to  know  fatigue, 
but  runs  on  like  a  musical  brook.  When  the  read- 
ing was  over,  a  hush  of  satisfied  enjoyment  had 
taken  possession  of  us  all.  It  was  not  broken 
when  Miss  Jessie  turned  to  the  piano  and  sang 
that  glorious  hymn,  "Lead,  Kindly  Light." 
Jack  was  close  beside  her,  his  blue  eyes  shining 
with  an  appreciation  of  which  any  woman  might 
be  proud,  and  his  baritone  in  perfect  harmony 
with  her  rich  contralto.  The  young  ladies  took 
the  higher  part,  Frank  added  his  tenor,  and  even 
Phil  and  I  leaned  heavily  on  Jarvis's  deep  bass. 
My  effort  was  of  short  duration ;  a  lump 
gathered  in  my  throat  that  caused  me  to  turn 


198  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

away.  Polly  was  searching  fruitlessly  for  some- 
thing to  dry  the  tears  that  overran  her  eyes,  and 
I  was  able  to  lend  her  aid,  but  the  accommoda- 
tion was  of  the  nature  of  a  "  call  loan." 

As  we  separated  for  the  night,  Jarvis  said: 
"  Lady  mother,  this  day  has  been  a  revelation  to 
me.  If  I  live  a  hundred  years,  I  shall  never 
forget  it."  I  was  slow  in  bringing  it  to  a  close. 
As  I  loitered  in  my  room,  I  heard  the  shuffling 
of  slippered  feet  in  the  hall,  and  a  timid  knock 
at  Polly's  door.  It  was  quickly  opened  for  Jane 
and  Jessie,  and  I  heard  sobbing  voices  say :  — 

"  Momee,  we  want  to  cry  on  your  bed,"  and, 
"  Oh,  Mrs.  Williams,  why  can't  all  days  be  like 
this ! " 

Polly's  voice  was  low  and  indistinct,  but  I 
know  that  it  carried  strong  and  loving  counsel ; 
and,  as  I  turned  to  my  pillow,  I  was  still  dream- 
ing the  dream  of  the  morning. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

WE   CLOSE   THE   BOOKS   FOR   '96 

The  morning  after  Christmas  broke  clear,  with 
a  wind  from  the  south  that  promised  to  make 
quick  work  of  the  snow.  The  young  people 
were  engaged  for  the  evening,  as  indeed  for  most 
evenings,  in  the  hospitable  village,  and  they 
spent  the  day  on  the  farm  as  pleased  them  best. 

There  were  many  things  to  interest  city-bred 
folk  on  a  place  like  Four  Oaks.  Everything  was 
new  to  them,  and  they  wanted  to  see  the  work- 
ings of  the  factory  farm  in  all  its  detail.  They 
made  friends  with  the  men  who  had  charge  of 
the  stock,  and  spent  much  time  in  the  stables. 
Polly  and  I  saw  them  occasionally,  but  they  did 
not  need  much  attention  from  us.  We  have 
never  found  it  necessary  to  entertain  our  friends 
on  the  farm.  They  seem  to  do  that  for  them- 
selves. We  simply  live  our  lives  with  them,  and 
they  live  theirs  with  us.  This  works  well  both 
for  the  guests  and  for  the  hosts. 

The  great  event  of  the  holiday  week  was  a 
New  Year  Eve  dance  at  the  Country  Club. 
Every  member  was  expected  to  appear  in  person 
or  by  proxy,  as  this  was  the  greatest  of  many 
functions  of  the  year. 

199 


200  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

Sunday  was  warm  and  sloppy,  and  little  could 
be  done  out  of  doors.  Part  of  the  household  were 
for  church,  and  the  rest  lounged  until  luncheon ; 
then  Polly  read  "  Sonny "  until  twilight,  and 
Laura  played  strange  music  in  the  half-dark. 

The  next  day  the  men  went  into  town  to  look 
about,  and  to  lunch  with  some  college  chums. 
As  they  would  not  return  until  five,  the  ladies 
had  the  day  to  themselves.  They  read  a  little, 
slept  a  little,  and  talked  much,  and  were  glad 
when  five  o'clock  and  the  men  came.  Tea  was 
so  hot  and  fragrant,  the  house  so  cosey,  and  the 
girls  so  pretty,  that  Jack  said :  — 

"  What  chumps  we  men  were  to  waste  the 
whole  day  in  town  ! " 

"  And  what  do  you  expect  of  men,  Mr.  Jack  ?  " 
said  Jessie. 

"Yes,  I  know,  the  old  story  of  pearls  and 
swine,  but  there  are  pearls  and  pearls." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  there  are  more  pearls  than 
swine,  Mr.  Jack  ?  For,  if  you  do,  I  will  take  issue 
with  you." 

"  If  I  am  a  swine,  I  will  be  an  aesthetic  one  and 
wear  the  pearl  that  comes  my  way,"  said  Jack, 
looking  steadily  into  the  eyes  of  the  high-headed 
girl. 

"  Will  you  have  one  lump  or  two  ?  " 

"One,"  said  Jack,  as  he  took  his  cup. 

The  last  day  of  the  year  came  all  too  quickly 
for  both  young  and  old  at  Four  Oaks.  Polly  and 
I  went  into  hiding  in  the  office  in  the  afternoon 


WE  CLOSE  THE  BOOKS  FOR  '96         201 

to  make  up  the  accounts  for  the  year.  As  Polly 
had  spent  the  larger  lump  sum,  I  could  face  her 
with  greater  boldness  than  on  the  previous  occa- 
sion.    Here  is  an  excerpt  from  the  farm  ledger : — 

Expended  in  1896 $43,309 

Interest  on  previous  account  ....  2,200 

Total $45,509 

Receipts 5,105 

Net  expense $40,404 

Previous  account 44,000 

$84,404 

The  farm  owes  me  a  little  more  than  $84,000. 
"  Not  so  good  as  I  hoped,  and  not  so  bad  as  I 
feared,"  said  Polly.  "  We  will  win  out  all  right, 
Mr.  Headman,  though  it  does  seem  a  lot  of 
money." 

"Like  the  Irishman's  pig,"  quoth  I.  "Pat 
said,  *  It  didn't  weigh  nearly  as  much  as  I  ex- 
pected, but  I  never  thought  it  would.' " 

There  was  little  to  depress  us  in  the  past,  and 
nothing  in  the  present,  so  we  joined  the  young 
people  for  the  dance  at  the  Club. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

OUR    FRIENDS 

After  our  guests  had  departed,  to  college  or 
school  or  home,  the  house  was  left  almost 
deserted.  We  did  not  shut  it  up,  however. 
Fires  were  bright  on  all  hearths,  and  lamps 
were  kept  burning.  We  did  not  mean  to  lose 
the  cheeriness  of  the  house,  though  much  of 
the  family  had  departed.  For  a  wonder,  the 
days  did  not  seem  lonesome.  After  the  first 
break  was  over,  we  did  not  find  time  to  think  of 
our  solitude,  and  as  the  weeks  passed  we  won- 
dered what  new  wings  had  caused  them  to  fly 
so  swiftly.  Each  day  had  its  interests  of  work 
or  study  or  social  function.  Stormy  days  and 
unbroken  evenings  were  given  to  reading.  We 
consumed  many  books,  both  old  and  new,  and 
we  were  not  forgotten  by  our  friends.  The  dull 
days  of  winter  did  not  drag ;  indeed,  they  were 
accepted  with  real  pleasure.  Our  lives  had 
hitherto  been  too  much  filled  with  the  hurry 
and  bustle  inseparable  from  the  fashionable  ex- 
istence-struggle of  a  large  city  to  permit  us  to 
settle  down  with  quiet  nerves  to  the  real  happi- 
ness of  home.     So  much  of  enjoyment  accom- 

202 


OUR  FRIENDS  203 

panies  and  depends  upon  tranquillity  of  mind, 
that  we  are  apt  to  miss  half  of  it  in  the  tur- 
moil of  work-strife  and  social-strife  that  fill  the 
best  years  of  most  men  and  women. 

It  is  a  pity  that  all  overwrought  people  can- 
not have  a  chance  to  relax  their  nerves,  and  to 
learn  the  possibilities  of  happiness  that  are  within 
them.  Most  of  the  jars  and  bickerings  of  domes- 
tic life,  most  of  the  mental  and  moral  obliquities, 
depend  upon  threadbare  nerves,  either  inherited 
or  uncovered  by  friction  incident  to  getting  on 
in  the  world.  I  never  understood  the  comforts 
that  follow  in  the  wake  of  a  quiet,  unambitious 
life,  until  such  a  life  was  forced  upon  me.  When 
you  discover  these  comforts  for  the  first  time,  you 
marvel  that  you  have  foregone  them  so  long,  and 
are  fain  to  recommend  them  to  all  the  world. 

Polly  and  I  had  gotten  on  reasonably  well  up 
to  this  time ;  but  before  we  became  conscious  of 
any  change,  we  found  ourselves  drawn  closer 
together  by  a  multitude  of  small  interests  com- 
mon to  both.  After  twenty-five  years  of  married 
life  it  will  compensate  any  man  to  take  a  little 
time  from  business  and  worry  that  he  may 
become  acquainted  with  his  wife.  A  few  for- 
tunate men  do  this  early  in  life,  and  they  draw 
compound  interest  on  the  investment ;  but  most  of 
us  feel  the  cares  of  life  so  keenly  that  we  take 
them  home  with  us  to  show  in  our  faces  and  to 
sit  at  our  tables  and  to  blight  the  growth  of  that 
cheerful  intercourse  which  perpetuates  love  and 


204  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

cements  friendship  in  the  home  as  well  as  in  the 
world. 

There  were  no  serious  cares  nowadays,  and 
time  passed  so  smoothly  at  Four  Oaks  that  we 
wondered  at  the  picnic  life  that  had  fallen  to  us. 
The  village  of  Exeter  was  alive  in  all  things 
social.  The  city  families  who  had  farms  or 
country  places  near  the  village  were  so  fond  of 
them  that  they  rarely  closed  them  for  more  than 
two  or  three  months,  and  these  months  were  as 
likely  to  come  in  summer  as  in  winter. 

Our  friends  the  Gordons  made  Homestead  Farm 
their  permanent  residence,  though  they  kept  open 
house  in  town.  Beyond  the  Gordons'  was  the 
modest  home  of  an  Irish  baronet,  Sir  Thomas 
O'Hara.  Sir  Tom  was  a  bachelor  of  sixty.  He 
had  run  through  two  fortunes  (as  became  an  Irish 
baronet)  in  the  racing  field  and  at  Homburg,  and  as 
a  young  man  he  had  lived  ten  years  at  Limmer's 
tavern  in  London.  When  not  in  training  to  ride 
his  own  steeple-chasers,  he  was  putting  up  his 
hands  against  any  man  in  England  who  would 
face  him  for  a  few  friendly  rounds.  He  was  not 
always  victorious,  either  in  the  field,  before  the 
green  cloth,  or  in  the  ring ;  but  he  was  always  a 
kind-hearted  gentleman  who  would  divide  his 
last  crown  with  friend  or  foe,  and  who  could 
accept  a  beating  with  grace  and  unruffled  spirit. 

He  could  never  ride  below  the  welter  weight, 
and  after  a  few  years  he  outgrew  this  weight 
and  was  forced  to  give  up  the  least  expensive  of 


OUR  FRIENDS  205 

his  diversions.  The  green  cloth  now  received 
more  of  his  attention,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
of  his  money.  Things  went  badly  with  him,  and 
he  began  to  see  the  end  of  his  second  fortune 
before  he  called  a  halt.  Bad  times  in  Ireland 
seriously  reduced  his  rents,  and  he  was  forced  to 
dispose  of  his  salable  estates.  Then  he  came  to 
this  country  in  the  hope  of  recouping  himself,  and 
to  get  away  from  the  fast  set  that  surrounded  him. 

"  I  can  resist  anything  but  temptation,"  this 
warm-hearted  Irishman  would  say  ;  and  that  was 
the  keynote  of  his  character. 

Though  Sir  Tom  was  only  sixty  years  old,  he 
looked  seventy.  He  was  much  broken  in  health 
by  gout  and  the  fast  pace  of  his  early  manhood. 
But  his  spirit  was  untouched  by  misfortune,  dis- 
ease, or  hardship.  His  courage  was  as  good  as 
when  he  served  as  a  subaltern  of  the  Guards  in 
the  trenches  before  Sebastopol,  or  presented  his 
body  as  a  mark  for  the  sledge-hammer  blows  of 
Tom  Sayers,  just  for  diversion.  His  constitution 
must  have  been  superb,  for  even  in  his  decrepi- 
tude he  was  good  to  look  upon :  five  feet  ten,  fine 
body,  slightly  given  to  rotundity,  legs  a  little 
shrunken  in  the  shanks,  but  giving  unmistakable 
signs  of  what  they  had  been  ("  not  lost,  but  gone 
before,"  as  he  would  say  of  them),  hands  and 
feet  aristocratic  in  form  and  well  cared  for,  and 
a  fine  head  set  on  broad  shoulders.  His  hair  was 
thin,  and  he  parted  it  with  great  exactness  in 
the  middle.      His  eyes  were  brown,  large,  and 


206  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

of  exceeding  softness.  His  nose  was  straight 
in  spite  of  many  a  contusion,  and  his  whole 
expression  was  that  of  a  high-bred  gentleman 
somewhat  the  worse  for  wear.  Sir  Tom  was 
perfectly  groomed  when  he  came  forth  from 
his  chamber,  which  was  usually  about  ten  in  the 
morning. 

Those  of  us  who  had  access  to  his  rooms  often 
wondered  how  he  ever  got  out  of  them  looking  so 
immaculate,  for  they  were  a  perfectly  impassable 
jungle  to  the  stranger.  Such  a  tangle  of  trunks, 
hand-bags,  rug  bundles,  clothes,  boots,  pajamas, 
newspapers,  scrap-books,  B.  &  S.  bottles,  could 
hardly  be  found  anywhere  else  in  the  world. 
He  had  a  fondness  for  newspaper  clippings, 
and  had  trunks  of  them,  sorted  into  bundles  or 
pasted  in  scrap-books.  Old  volumes  of  Bell's 
Life  filled  more  than  one  trunk,  and  on  one 
occasion  when  he  and  I  were  spending  a  long 
evening  together,  in  celebration  of  his  recent 
recovery  from  an  attack  of  gout,  and  when  he 
had  done  more  than  usual  justice  to  the  B.  &  S. 
bottles  and  less  than  usual  justice  to  his  gout, 
he  showed  me  the  record  of  a  long-gone  year  in 
which  this  same  Bell's  Life  called  him  the  «  first 
among  the  gentlemen  riders  in  the  United  King- 
dom," and  proved  this  assertion  by  showing  how 
he  had  won  most  of  the  great  steeple-chases  in 
England  and  Ireland,  riding  his  own  horses. 
This  was  the  nearest  approach  to  boasting  that 
ever  came  to  my  knowledge  in  the  years  of  our 


OUE   FRIENDS  207 

close  friendship,  and  I  would  never  have  thought 
of  it  as  such  had  I  not  seen  that  he  regarded  it 
as  unwarrantable  self-praise. 

I  have  never  known  a  more  simple,  kind- 
hearted,  agreeable,  and  lovable  gentleman  than 
this  broken-down  sporting  man  and  gambler. 
I  loved  him  as  a  brother ;  and  though  he  has 
passed  out  of  my  life,  I  still  love  the  memory 
of  his  genial  face,  his  courtesy,  his  unselfish 
friendship,  more  than  words  can  express.  A 
tender  heart  and  a  gentle  spirit  found  strange 
housing  in  a  body  given  over  to  reckless  prodi- 
gality. The  combination,  tempered  by  time  and 
exhaustion,  showed  nothing  that  was  not  lov- 
able ;  and  it  is  scant  praise  to  say  that  Sir 
Thomas  was  much  to  me. 

He  was  just  as  acceptable  to  Polly.  No 
woman  could  fail  to  appreciate  the  homage 
which  he  never  failed  to  show  to  the  wife  and 
mother.  Many  winter  evenings  at  Four  Oaks 
were  made  brighter  by  his  presence,  and  we 
grew  to  expect  him  at  least  three  nights  each 
week.  His  plate  was  placed  on  our  round  table 
these  nights,  and  he  rarely  failed  to  use  it ;  and 
the  B.  &  S.  bottles  were  near  at  hand,  and  his 
favorite  brand  of  cigars  within  easy  reach. 

"  I  light  a  *  baccy '  by  your  permission,  Mrs. 
Williams,"  and  a  courtly  bow  accompanied  the 
words. 

At  9.30  William  came  to  bring  Sir  Tom 
home.     The  leave-taking  was  always  formal  with 


208  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

Polly,  but  with  me  it  was,  "  Ta-ta,  Williams  — 
see  you  later,"  and  our  guest  would  hobble  out 
on  his  poor  crippled  feet,  waving  his  hand  gal- 
lantly, with  a  voice  as  cheery  as  a  boy's. 

Another  family  whom  I  wish  the  reader  to 
know  well  is  the  Kyrles.  For  more  than  twenty- 
five  years  we  have  known  no  joys  or  sorrows  which 
they  did  not  feel,  and  no  interests  that  touched 
them  have  failed  to  leave  a  mark  on  us.  We  could 
not  have  been  more  intimate  or  better  friends 
had  the  closest  blood  tie  united  us.  The  acquaint- 
ance of  young  married  couples  had  grown  into 
a  friendship  that  was  bearing  its  best  fruit  at 
a  time  when  best  fruit  was  most  appreciated. 
We  do  not  consider  a  pleasure  more  than  half 
complete  until  we  have  told  it  to  Will  and 
Frances  Kyrle,  for  their  delight  doubles  our 
happiness. 

They  were  among  the  earliest  of  my  patients, 
and  they  are  easily  first  among  our  friends.  I 
have  watched  more  than  a  half-dozen  of  their 
children  from  infancy  to  adult  life,  and  this 
alone  would  be  a  strong  bond ;  but  in  addition 
to  this  is  the  fact  that  the  whole  family,  from 
father  to  youngest  child,  possess  in  a  wonderful 
degree  that  subtle  sense  of  true  camaraderie 
which  is  as  rare  as  it  is  charming. 

The  Kyrles  lived  in  the  city,  but  they  were 
foot-free,  and  we  could  count  on  having  them 
often.  Four  Oaks  was  to  be,  if  we  had  our  way, 
a  country  home  for  them  almost  as  much  as  for 


OUR  FRIENDS  209 

us.  Indeed,  one  of  the  rooms  was  called  ths 
Kyrles'  room,  and  they  came  to  it  at  will.  Enough 
about  our  friends.  We  must  go  back  to  the 
farm  interests,  which  are,  indeed,  the  only  ex- 
cuse for  this  history. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

THE    HEADMAN'S   JOB 

Our  life  at  Four  Oaks  began  in  earnest  in 
January,  1897.  Even  during  the  winter  months 
there  was  no  lack  of  employment  and  interest 
for  the  Headman.  I  breakfasted  at  seven,  and 
from  that  time  until  noon  I  was  as  busy  as  if  I 
were  working  for  $20  a  month.  The  master's 
eye  is  worth  more  than  his  hand  in  a  factory  like 
mine.  My  men  were,  and  are,  an  unusual  lot, 
—  intelligent,  sober,  and  willing,  —  but  they, 
like  others,  are  apt  to  fall  into  routine  ways,  and 
thereby  to  miss  points  which  an  observing  pro- 
prietor would  not  overlook. 

The  cows,  for  instance,  were  all  fed  the  same 
ration.  Fifteen  pounds  of  mixed  grains  was 
none  too  much  for  the  big  Holstein  milk-makers, 
who  were  yielding  well  and  looking  in  perfect 
health ;  but  the  common  cows  were  taking  on 
too  much  flesh  and  falling  off  in  milk.  I  at  once 
changed  the  ration  for  these  six  cows  by  leaving 
out  the  corn  entirely  and  substituting  oat  straw 
for  alfalfa  in  the  cut  feed.  The  change  brought 
good  results  in  five  of  the  cows ;  the  other  one 

210 


THE  HEADMAN'S  JOB  211 

did  not  pick  up  in  her  milk,  and  after  a  reason- 
able trial  I  sold  her. 

The  herd  was  doing  excellently  for  mid-winter, 
—  the  yield  amounted  to  a  daily  average  of  840 
pounds  throughout  the  month,  and  I  was  able  to 
make  good  my  contract  with  the  middleman.  I 
could  see  breakers  ahead,  however,  and  it  be- 
hooved me  to  make  ready  for  them.  I  decided 
to  buy  ten  more  thoroughbreds  in  new  milk,  if 
I  could  find  them.  I  wrote  to  the  people  from 
whom  I  had  purchased  the  first  herd,  and  after 
a  little  delay  secured  nine  cows  in  fresh  milk 
and  about  four  years  old.  This  addition  came 
in  February,  and  kept  my  milk  supply  above  the 
danger  point.  Since  then  I  have  bought  no 
cows.  Thirty-four  of  these  thoroughbreds  are 
still  at  Four  Oaks  —  two  of  them  have  died,  and 
three  have  been  sold  for  not  keeping  up  to  the 
standard  —  and  are  doing  grand  service.  Their 
numbers  have  been  reenforced  by  twenty  of  their 
best  daughters,  so  there  are  at  this  writing  fifty- 
four  milch  cows  and  five  yearling  heifers  in  the 
herd.  Most  of  the  calves  have  been  disposed  of 
as  soon  as  weaned.  I  have  no  room  for  more 
stock  on  my  place,  and  it  doesn't  pay  to  keep 
them  to  sell  as  cows.  Four  Oaks  is  not  a  breed- 
ing farm,  but  a  factory  farm,  and  everything  has 
to  be  subordinated  to  the  factory  idea. 

My  thoroughbred  calves  have  brought  me  an 
average  price  of  $12  each  at  four  to  six  weeks, 
sold  to  dairymen,  and  I  am  satisfied  to  do  busi- 


212  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

ness  in  that  way.  The  nine  milch  cows  which 
I  bought  to  complete  the  herd  cost,  delivered  at 
Four  Oaks,  $1012. 

All  the  grain  fed  to  cows,  horses,  and  hogs, 
and  a  portion  of  that  fed  to  chickens,  is  ground 
fine  before  feeding.  The  grinding  is  done  in 
the  granary  by  a  mill  with  a  capacity  of  forty 
bushels  an  hour.  We  make  corn  meal,  corn  and 
cob  meal,  and  oatmeal  enough  for  a  week's  sup- 
ply in  a  few  hours.  All  hay  and  straw  is  cut 
fine,  before  being  fed,  by  a  power  cutter  in  the 
forage  barn,  and  from  thence  is  taken  by  teams 
in  box  racks  to  the  feeding  rooms,  where  it  is 
wetted  with  hot  water  and  mixed  with  the 
ground  feed  for  the  cows  and  horses,  and  steamed 
or  cooked  with  the  ground  feed  for  the  hogs  and 
hens. 

Alfalfa  is  the  only  hay  used  for  the  hens,  and 
wonderfully  good  it  is  for  them.  Besides  feed 
for  the  hogs,  we  have  to  provide  ashes,  salt,  and 
charcoal  for  them.  These  three  things  are  kept 
constantly  before  them  in  narrow  troughs  set  so 
near  the  wall  that  they  cannot  get  their  feet  into 
them. 

We  carefully  save  all  wood  ashes  for  the  hogs 
and  hens,  and  we  burn  our  own  charcoal  in  a  pit 
in  the  wood  lot.  Five  cords  of  sound  wood  make 
an  abundant  supply  for  a  year.  I  think  this  side 
dish  constantly  before  swine  goes  a  long  way 
toward  keeping  them  healthy.  Clean  pens,  well- 
balanced  and  well-cooked  food,  pure  water,  and 


THE  HEADMAN'S  JOB  213 

this  medicine  can  be  counted  on  to  keep  a  grow- 
ing and  fattening  herd  healthy  during  its  nine 
months  of  life. 

It  is  claimed  that  it  is  unnatural  and  artificial 
to  confine  these  young  things  within  such  narrow 
limits,  and  so  it  is;  but  the  whole  scheme  is 
unnatural,  if  you  please.  The  pig  is  born  to  die, 
and  to  die  quickly,  for  the  profit  and  mainten- 
ance of  man.  What  could  be  more  unnatural? 
Would  he  be  better  reconciled  to  his  fate  after 
spending  his  nine  months  between  field  and  sty  ? 
I  wot  not.  The  Chester  White  is  an  indolent 
fellow,  and  I  suspect  he  loves  his  comfortable 
house,  his  cool  stone  porch,  his  back  yard  to  dig 
in,  his  neighbors  across  the  wire  fence  to  gossip 
with,  and  his  well-balanced,  well-cooked  food 
served  under  his  own  nose  three  times  a  day. 
At  least  he  looks  content  in  his  piggery,  and 
grows  faster  and  puts  on  more  flesh  in  his 
250  days  than  does  his  neighbor  of  the  field. 
If  the  hog's  profitable  life  were  twice  or 
thrice  as  long,  I  would  advocate  a  wider  lib- 
erty for  the  early  part  of  it;  but  as  it  doesn't 
pay  to  keep  the  animal  after  he  is  nine  months 
old,  the  quickest  way  to  bring  him  to  perfection 
is  the  best.  One  cannot  afford  to  graze  animals 
of  any  kind  when  one  is  trying  to  do  intensive 
farming.  It  is  indirect,  it  is  wasteful  of  space 
and  energy,  and  it  doesn't  force  the  highest 
product.  Grazing,  as  compared  with  soiling, 
may  be  economical  of  labor,  but  as  I  understand 


214  THE   FAT   OF   THE  LAND 

economics  that  is  the  one  thing  in  which  we  do 
not  wish  to  economize.  The  multiplication  of 
well-paid  and  well-paying  labor  is  a  thing  to  be 
specially  desired.  If  the  soiling  farm  will  keep 
two  or  three  more  men  employed  at  good  wages, 
and  at  the  same  time  pay  better  interest  than 
the  grazing  farm,  it  should  be  looked  upon  as 
much  the  better  method.  The  question  of  fur- 
nishing landscape  for  hogs  is  one  that  borders 
too  closely  on  the  aesthetic  or  the  sentimental  to 
gain  the  approval  of  the  factory-farm  man. 
What  is  true  of  hogs  is  also  true  of  cows.  They 
are  better  off  under  the  constant  care  of  intelli- 
gent and  interested  human  beings  than  when 
they  follow  the  rippling  brook  or  wind  slowly 
o'er  the  lea  at  their  own  sweet  pleasure. 

The  truth  is,  the  rippling  brook  doesn't  always 
furnish  the  best  water,  and  the  lea  furnishes  very 
imperfect  forage  during  nine  months  of  the  year. 
A  twenty-acre  lot  in  good  grass,  in  which  to  take 
the  air,  is  all  that  a  well-regulated  herd  of  fifty 
cows  needs.  The  clean,  cool,  calm  stable  is  much 
to  their  liking,  and  the  regular  diet  of  a  first- 
class  cow-kitchen  insures  a  uniform  flow  of 
milk. 

What  is  true  of  hogs  and  cows  is  true  also  of 
hens.  The  common  opinion  that  the  farm-raised 
hen  that  has  free  range  is  healthier  or  happier 
than  her  sister  in  a  well-ordered  hennery  is  not 
based  on  facts.  Freedom  to  forage  for  one's  self 
and  pick  up  a  precarious  living  does  not  always 


THE  HEADMAN'S  JOB  215 

mean  health,  happiness,  or  comfort.  The  strenu- 
ous life  on  the  farm  cannot  compare  in  comfort 
with  the  quiet  house  and  the  freedom  from 
anxiety  of  the  well-tended  hen.  The  vicissitudes 
of  life  are  terrible  for  the  uncooped  chicken 
The  occupants  of  air,  earth,  and  water  lie  in 
wait  for  it.  It  is  fair  game  for  the  hawk  and 
the  owl ;  the  fox,  the  weasel,  the  rat,  the  wood 
pussy,  the  cat,  and  the  dog  are  its  sworn  ene- 
mies. The  horse  steps  on  it,  the  wheel  crushes 
it ;  it  falls  into  the  cistern  or  the  swill  barrel ;  it 
is  drenched  by  showers  or  stiffened  by  frosts, 
and,  as  the  English  say,  it  has  a  "  rather  indiffer- 
ent time  of  it."  If  it  survive  the  summer,  and 
some  chickens  do,  it  will  roost  and  shiver  on  the 
limb  of  an  apple  tree.  Its  nest  will  be  accessible 
only  to  the  mink  and  the  rat ;  and,  like  Rachel, 
it  will  mourn  for  its  children,  which  are  not. 

No,  the  well-yarded  hen  has  by  all  odds  the 
best  of  it.  The  wonder  is  that,  with  three- 
fourths  of  the  poultry  at  large  and  making  its 
own  living,  hens  still  furnish  a  product,  in  this 
country  alone,  $100,000,000  greater  in  value  than 
the  whole  world's  output  of  gold.  Our  annual 
production  of  eggs  and  poultry  foots  up  to 
$280,000,000,  —  $4  apiece  for  every  man,  woman, 
and  child,  —  and  yet  people  say  that  hens  do 
not  pay ! 

Each  flock  of  forty  hens  at  Four  Oaks  has  a 
house  sixteen  feet  by  twenty,  and  a  run  twenty 
feet  by  one  hundred.     I  hear  no  complaints  of 


216  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

close  quarters  or  lack  of  freedom,  but  I  do  hear 
continually  the  song  of  contentment,  and  I  see 
results  daily  that  are  more  satisfactory  than  those 
of  any  oil  well  or  mine  in  which  I  have  ever 
been  interested. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

SPRING   OP   '97 

Sam  began  to  make  up  his  breeding  pens  in 
January.  He  selected  150  of  his  favorites,  divided 
them  into  10  flocks  of  15,  added  a  fine  cockerel 
to  each  pen  (we  do  not  allow  cocks  or  cockerels 
to  run  with  the  laying  hens),  and  then  began  to 
set  the  incubator  house  in  order. 

He  filled  the  first  incubator  on  Saturday, 
January  30,  and  from  that  day  until  late  in 
April  he  was  able  to  start  a  fresh  machine  about 
every  six  days.  Sam  reports  the  total  hatch  for 
the  year  as  1917  chicks,  out  of  which  number  he 
had,  when  he  separated  them  in  the  early  autumn, 
678  pullets  to  put  in  the  runs  for  laying  hens, 
and  653  cockerels  to  go  to  the  fattening  pens. 
These  figures  show  that  Sam  was  a  first-class 
chicken  man. 

We  secured  300  tons  of  ice  at  the  side  of  the 
lake  for  $98,  having  to  pay  a  little  more  that 
year  than  the  last,  on  account  of  the  heavy  fall 
of  snow. 

The  wood-house  was  replenished,  although  there 
was  still  a  good  deal  of  last  year's  cut  on  hand. 
We  did  not  fell  any  trees,  for  there  was  still  a 
considerable  quantity  of  dead  wood  on  the  ground 

817 


218  THE   FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

which  should  be  used  first.  I  wanted  to  clear 
out  much  of  the  useless  underbrush,  but  we  had 
only  time  to  make  a  beginning  in  this  effort  at 
forestry.  We  went  over  perhaps  ten  acres  across 
the  north  line,  removing  briers  and  brush.  Every- 
thing that  looked  like  a  possible  future  tree  was 
left.  Around  oak  and  hickory  stumps  we  found 
clumps  of  bushes  springing  from  living  roots. 
These  we  cut  away,  except  one  or  possibly  two 
of  the  most  thrifty.  We  trimmed  off  the  lower 
branches  of  those  we  saved,  and  left  them  to 
make  such  trees  as  they  could.  I  have  been 
amazed  to  see  what  a  growth  an  oak-root  sprout 
will  make  after  its  neighbors  have  been  cut 
away.  There  are  some  hundreds  of  these  trees 
in  the  forest  at  Four  Oaks,  from  five  to  six  inches 
in  diameter,  which  did  not  measure  more  than 
one  or  two  inches  five  years  ago. 

As  the  underbrush  was  cleared  from  the  wood 
lot,  I  planned  to  set  young  trees  to  fill  vacant 
spaces.  The  European  larch  was  used  in  the 
first  experiment.  In  the  spring  of  1897  I  bought 
four  thousand  seedling  larches  for  $80,  planted 
them  in  nursery  rows  in  the  orchard,  cultivated 
them  for  two  years,  and  then  transplanted  them 
to  the  forest.  The  larch  is  hardy  and  grows 
rapidly ;  and  as  it  is  a  valuable  tree  for  many 
purposes,  it  is  one  of  the  best  for  forest  planting. 
I  have  planted  no  others  thus  far  at  Four  Oaks, 
as  the  four  thousand  from  my  little  nursery 
seem  to  fill  all  unoccupied  spaces. 


SPRING  OF  '97  219 

Fresh  mulching  was  piled  near  all  the  young 
fruit  trees,  to  be  applied  as  soon  as  the  frost  was 
out  of  the  ground.  Several  hundreds  of  loads 
of  manure  were  hauled  to  the  fields,  to  be  spread 
as  soon  as  the  snow  disappeared.  I  always  re- 
turn manure  to  the  land  as  soon  as  it  can  be 
done  conveniently.  The  manure  from  the  hen- 
house was  saved  this  year  to  use  on  the  alfalfa 
fields,  to  see  how  well  it  would  take  the  place 
of  commercial  fertilizer.  I  may  as  well  give  the 
result  of  the  experiment  now. 

It  was  mixed  with  sand  and  applied  at  the 
rate  of  eight  hundred  pounds  an  acre  for  the 
spring  dressing  over  a  portion  of  the  alfalfa, 
against  four  hundred  pounds  an  acre  of  the 
fertilizer  3:8:8.  After  two  years  I  was  con- 
vinced that,  when  used  alone,  it  is  not  of  more 
than  half  the  value  of  the  fertilizer. 

My  present  practice  is  to  use  five  hundred 
pounds  of  hen  manure  and  two  hundred  pounds 
of  fertilizer  on  each  acre  for  the  spring  dressing, 
and  two  hundred  pounds  an  acre  of  the  fertilizer 
alone  after  each  cutting  except  the  last.  We 
have  ten  or  twelve  tons  of  hen  manure  each 
year,  and  it  is  nearly  all  used  on  the  alfalfa  or 
the  timothy  as  spring  dressing.  It  costs  nothing, 
and  it  takes  off  a  considerable  sum  from  the 
fertilizer  account.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  the 
scientists  would  approve  this  method  of  using 
it ;  I  can  only  give  my  experience,  and  say  that 
it  brings  me  satisfactory  crops. 


220  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

There  was  much  snow  in  January  and  Feb- 
ruary, and  in  March  much  rain.  When  the 
spring  opened,  therefore,  the  ground  was  full  of 
water.  This  was  fortunate,  for  April  and  May 
were  unusually  dry  months,  —  only  1.16  inches  of 
water. 

The  dry  April  brought  the  ploughs  out  early ; 
but  before  we  put  our  hands  to  the  plough  we 
should  make  a  note  of  what  the  first  quarter  of 
1897  brought  into  our  strong  box. 

Sold: 

Butter $842.00 

Eggs 


Cow 

Two  sows 

Total 


401.00 
35.00 
19.00 


$1297.00 


Fifteen  of  the  young  sows  farrowed  in  March, 
and  the  other  9  in  April,  as  also  did  18  old 
ones.  The  young  sows  gave  us  147  pigs,  and 
the  old  ones  161,  so  that  the  spring  opened  with 
an  addition  to  our  stock  of  300  head  of  young 
swine. 

Between  March  1  and  May  10  were  born 
25  calves,  which  were  all  sold  before  July  1. 
The  population  of  our  factory  farm  was  in- 
creasing so  rapidly  that  it  became  necessary  to 
have  more  help.  We  already  had  eight  men  and 
three  women,  besides  the  help  in  the  big  house. 
One  would  think  that  eight  men  could  do  the 
work  on  a  farm  of  320  acres,  and  so  they  can, 
most  of  the  time :  but  in  seed-time  and  harvest 


SPRING  OF  '97  221 

they  are  not  sufficient  at  Four  Oaks.  We  could 
not  work  the  teams. 

Up  to  March,  1897,  Sam  had  full  charge  of  the 
chickens,  and  also  looked  after  the  hogs,  with 
the  help  of  Anderson.  Judson  and  French  had 
their  hands  full  in  the  cow  stables,  and  Lars  was 
more  than  busy  with  the  carriage  horses  and  the 
driving.  Thompson  was  working  foreman,  and 
his  son  Zeb  and  Johnson  looked  after  the  farm 
horses  during  the  winter  and  did  the  general 
work.  From  that  time  on  Sam  gave  his  entire 
time  to  the  chickens,  Anderson  his  entire  time  to 
the  hogs,  and  Johnson  began  gardening  in  real 
earnest.  This  left  only  Thompson  and  Zeb  for 
general  farm  work. 

Again  I  advertised  for  two  farm  hands.  I 
selected  two  of  the  most  promising  applicants 
and  brought  them  out  to  the  farm.  Thompson 
discharged  one  of  them  at  the  end  of  the  first 
day  for  persistently  jerking  his  team,  and  the 
other  discharged  himself  at  the  week's  end,  to 
continue  his  tramp.  Once  more  I  resorted  to 
the  city  papers.  This  time  I  was  more  fortu- 
nate, for  I  found  a  young  Swede,  square-built 
and  blond-headed,  who  said  he  had  worked  on 
his  father's  farm  in  the  old  country,  and  had 
left  it  because  it  was  too  small  for  the  five  boys. 
Otto  was  slow  of  speech  and  of  motion,  but  he 
said  he  could  work,  and  I  hired  him.  The  other 
man  whom  I  sent  to  the  farm  at  the  same  time 
proved  of  no  use  whatever.      He  stayed   four 


222  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

days,  and  was  dismissed  for  innocuous  desuetude. 
Still  another  man  whom  I  tried  did  well  for  five 
weeks,  and  then  broke  out  in  a  most  profound 
spree,  from  which  he  could  not  be  weaned.  He 
ended  up  by  an  assault  on  Otto  in  the  stable 
yard.  The  Swede  was  taken  by  surprise,  and 
was  handsomely  bowled  over  by  the  first  on- 
slaught of  his  half-drunk,  half-crazed  antagonist. 
As  soon,  however,  as  his  slow  mind  took  in  the 
fact  that  he  was  being  pounded,  he  gathered  his 
forces,  and,  with  a  grunt  for  a  war-cry,  rolled 
his  enemy  under  him,  sat  upon  his  stomach,  and, 
flat-handed,  slapped  his  face  until  he  shouted  for 
aid.  The  man  left  the  farm  at  once,  and  I  com- 
mended the  Swede  for  having  used  the  flat  of 
his  hand. 

In  spite  of  bad  luck  with  the  new  men  we 
were  able  to  plough  and  seed  144  acres  by  May 
10.  Lots  Nos.  8,  12,  13,  and  14  were  planted  to 
corn,  and  No.  15  sowed  to  oats,  and  the  10  acres 
on  the  home  lot  were  divided  between  sweet  fod- 
der corn,  potatoes,  and  cabbage.  The  abundant 
water  in  the  soil  gave  the  crops  a  fair  start,  and 
June  proved  an  excellent  growing  month,  a  rain- 
fall of  nearly  four  inches  putting  them  beyond 
danger  from  the  short  water  supply  of  July  and 
August.  Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  the  gener- 
osity of  June  we'  should  have  been  in  a  bad  way, 
for  the  next  three  months  gave  a  scant  four 
inches  of  rain. 

The    oats   made  a  good  growth,  though  the 


SPRING  OF  '97  223 

straw  was  rather  short,  and  the  corn  did  very 
well  indeed,  —  due  largely  to  thorough  cultiva- 
tion. Twelve  acres  of  oats  were  cut  for  forage, 
and  the  rest  yielded  33  bushels  to  the  acre,  —  a 
little  over  1300  bushels. 

The  alfalfa  and  timothy  made  a  good  start. 
From  the  former  we  cut,  late  in  June,  2^-  tons 
to  the  acre,  and  from  the  timothy,  in  July,  2i- 
tons,  —  50  tons  of  timothy  and  45  of  alfalfa. 
Each  of  these  fields  received  the  usual  top-dress- 
ing after  the  crop  was  cut ;  but  the  timothy  did 
not  respond,  —  the  late  season  was  too  dry.  We 
cut  two  more  crops  from  the  alfalfa  field,  which 
together  made  a  yield  of  a  little  more  than  2 
tons.  The  alfalfa  in  that  dry  summer  gave  me 
95  tons  of  good  hay,  proving  its  superiority  as  a 
dry-weather  crop. 

Johnson  started  the  one-and-one-half-acre  vege- 
table and  fruit  garden  in  April,  and  devoted  much 
of  his  time  to  it.  His  primitive  hotbeds  gradu- 
ally emptied  themselves  into  the  garden,  and  we 
now  began  to  taste  the  fruit  of  our  own  soil, 
much  to  the  pleasure  of  the  whole  colony.  It 
is  surprising  what  a  real  gardener  can  do  with  a 
garden  of  this  size.  By  feeding  soil  and  plants 
liberally,  he  is  able  to  keep  the  ground  producing 
successive  crops  of  vegetables,  from  the  day  the 
frost  leaves  it  in  the  spring  until  it  again  takes 
possession  in  the  fall,  without  doing  any  wrong 
to  the  land.  Indeed,  our  garden  grows  better 
and  more  prolific  each  year  in  spite  of  the  im- 


224  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

mense  crops  that  are  taken  from  it.  This  can 
be  done  only  by  a  person  who  knows  his  busi- 
ness, and  Johnson  is  such  a  person.  He  gave 
much  of  his  time  to  this  practical  patch,  but  he 
also  worked  with  Polly  among  the  shrubs  on  the 
lawn,  and  in  her  sunken  flower  garden,  which  is 
the  pride  of  her  life.  We  shall  hear  more  about 
this  flower  garden  later  on. 

The  accounts  for   the  second   quarter  of  the 
year  show  these  items  on  the  income  side :  — 

Butter $1052.00 

Eggs 379.00 

Twenty-five  calves         ....  275.00 

Total $ 1706.00 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

THE   YOUNG    ORCHARD 

One  of  the  most  enjoyable  occupations  of  a 
farmer's  life  is  the  care  of  young  trees.  Until 
your  experience  in  this  work  is  of  a  personal  and 
proprietary  nature,  you  will  not  realize  the  pleas- 
ure it  can  afford.  The  intimate  study  of  plant 
life,  especially  if  that  plant  life  is  yours,  is  a  never 
failing  source  of  pleasurable  speculation,  and  a 
thing  upon  which  to  hang  dreams.  You  grow  to 
know  each  tree,  not  only  by  its  shape  and  its 
habit  of  growth,  but  also  by  peculiarities  that 
belong  to  it  as  an  individual.  The  erect,  sturdy 
bearing  of  one  bespeaks  a  frank,  bold  nature, 
which  makes  it  willing  to  accept  its  surroundings 
and  make  the  most  of  them ;  while  the  crooked, 
dwarfish  nature  of  another  requires  the  utmost 
care  of  the  husbandman  to  keep  it  within  the 
bounds  of  good  behavior.  And  yet  we  often  find 
that  the  slow-growing,  ill-conditioned  young  tree, 
if  properly  cared  for,  will  bring  forth  the  finest 
fruit  at  maturity. 

To  study  the  character  and  to  watch  the  de- 
velopment of  young  trees  is  a  pleasing  and  use- 
ful occupation  for  the  man  who  thinks  of  them 

Q  225 


226  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

as  living  things  with  an  inheritance  that  cannot 
be  ignored.  That  seeds  in  all  appearance  exactly 
alike  should  send  forth  shoots  so  unlike,  is  a 
wonder  of  Nature ;  and  that  young  shoots  in  the 
same  soil  and  with  the  same  care  should  show 
such  dissimilarity  in  development,  is  a  riddle 
whose  answer  is  to  be  found  only  in  the  binding 
laws  of  heredity.  That  a  tiny  bud  inserted  under 
the  bark  of  a  well-grown  tree  can  change  a  sour 
root  to  a  sweet  bough,  ought  to  make  one  care- 
ful of  the  buds  which  one  grafts  on  the  living 
trunk  of  one's  tree  of  life.  The  young  orchard 
can  teach  many  lessons  to  him  who  is  willing  to 
be  taught;  in  the  hands  of  him  who  is  not,  the 
schoolmaster  has  a  very  sorry  time  of  it,  no  mat- 
ter how  he  sets  his  lessons. 

The  side  pockets  of  my  jacket  are  usually 
weighted  down  with  pruning-shears,  a  sharp  knife, 
and  a  handled  copper  wire, — alwa}7s,  indeed, 
in  June,  when  I  walk  in  my  orchard.  June  is 
the  month  of  all  months  for  the  prudent  orchard- 
ist  to  go  thus  armed,  for  the  apple-tree  borer  is 
abroad  in  the  land.  When  the  quick  eye  of  the 
master  sees  a  little  pile  of  sawdust  at  the  base 
of  a  tree,  he  knows  that  it  is  time  for  him  to  sit 
right  down  by  that  tree  and  kill  its  enemy.  The 
sharp  knife  enlarges  the  hole,  which  is  the  trail 
of  the  serpent,  and  the  sharp-pointed,  flexible 
wire  follows  the  route  until  it  has  reached  and 
transfixed  the  borer. 

This  is  the  only  way.     It  is  the  nature  of  the 


THE  YOUNG  ORCHARD  227 

borer  to  maim  or  kill  the  tree;  it  is  for  the  in- 
terest of  the  owner  that  the  tree  should  live. 
The  conflict  is  irrepressible,  and  the  weakest 
must  go  to  the  wall.  The  borer  evil  can  be  re- 
duced to  a  minimum  by  keeping  the  young  trees 
banked  three  or  four  inches  high  with  firm  dirt 
or  ashes ;  but  borers  must  be  followed  with  the 
wire,  once  they  enter  the  bark. 

The  sharp  knife  and  the  pruning-shears  have 
other  uses  in  the  June  orchard.  Limbs  and 
sprouts  will  come  in  irregular  and  improper 
places,  and  they  should  be  nipped  out  early  and 
thus  save  labor  and  mutilation  later  on.  Sprouts 
that  start  from ,  the  eyes  on  the  trunk  can  be  re- 
moved by  a  downward  stroke  of  the  gloved  hand. 
All  intersecting  or  crossing  boughs  are  removed 
by  knife  or  scissors,  and  branches  which  are  too 
luxuriant  in  growth  are  cut  or  pinched  back. 
Careful  guidance  of  the  tree  in  June  will  avoid 
the  necessity  of  severe  correction  later  on. 

A  man  ought  to  plant  an  orchard,  if  for  no 
other  reason,  that  he  may  have  the  pleasure  of 
caring  for  it,  and  for  the  companionship  of  the 
trees.  This  was  the  second  year  of  growth  for 
my  orchard,  and  I  was  gratified  by  the  evidences 
of  thrift  and  vigor.  Fine,  spreading  heads 
adorned  the  tops  of  the  stubs  of  trees  that 
had  received  such  (apparently)  cruel  treatment 
eighteen  months  before.  The  growth  of  these 
two  seasons  convinced  me  that  the  four-year-old 
root   and   the   three-year-old   stem,   if   properly 


228  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

managed,  have  greater  possibilities  of  rapid  de- 
velopment than  roots  or  stems  of  more  tender 
age.  I  think  I  made  no  mistake  in  planting 
three-year-old  trees. 

As  I  worked  in  my  orchard  I  could  not  help 
looking  forward  to  the  time  when  the  trees  would 
return  a  hundred-fold  for  the  care  bestowed  upon 
them.  They  would  begin  to  bring  returns,  in  a 
small  way,  from  the  fourth  year,  and  after  that 
the  returns  would  increase  rapidly.  It  is  safe  to 
predict  that  from  the  tenth  to  the  fortieth  year  a 
well-managed  orchard  will  give  an  average  yearly 
income  of  $100  an  acre  above  all  expenses,  includ- 
ing interest  on  the  original  cost.  A  fifty-acre  or- 
chard of  well-selected  apple  trees,  near  a  first-class 
market  and  in  intelligent  hands,  means  a  net 
income  of  $5000,  taking  one  year  with  another, 
for  thirty  or  forty  years.  What  kind  of  invest- 
ment will  pay  better?  What  sort  of  business 
will  give  larger  returns  in  health  and  pleasure  ? 

I  do  not  mean  to  convey  the  idea  that  forty 
years  is  the  life  of  an  orchard ;  hundreds  of 
years  would  be  more  correct.  As  trees  die  from 
accident  or  decrepitude,  others  should  take  their 
places.  Thus  the  lease  of  life  becomes  perpetual 
in  hands  that  are  willing  to  keep  adding  to  the 
soil  more  than  the  trees  and  the  fruit  take  from 
it.  Comparatively  few  owners  of  orchards  do 
this,  and  those  who  belong  to  the  majority  will 
find  fault  with  my  figures ;  but  the  thinking  few, 
who  do  not  expect  to  enjoy  the  fat  of  the  land 


THE  YOUNG  ORCHABD     '  229 

without  making  a  reasonable  return,  will  say 
that  I  am  too  conservative,  —  that  a  well-placed, 
well-cared-for,  well-selected,  and  well-marketed 
orchard  will  do  much  better  than  my  prophecy. 
Nature  is  a  good  husbandman  so  far  as  she  goes, 
but  her  scheme  contemplates  only  the  perpetua- 
tion of  the  tree,  by  seeds  or  by  other  means. 
Nature's  plan  is  to  give  to  each  specimen  a  nutritive 
ration.  Anything  beyond  this  is  thrown  away  on 
the  individual,  and  had  better  be  used  for  the  mul- 
tiplying of  specimens.  When  man  comes  to  ask 
something  more  than  germinating  seeds  from  a 
plant,  he  must  remove  it  from  the  crowded  clump, 
give  it  more  light  and  air,  and  feed  it  for  product. 
In  other  words,  he  must  give  it  more  nitrogen, 
phosphoric  acid,  and  potash  than  it  can  use  for 
simple  growth  and  maintenance,  and  thus  make 
it  burst  forth  into  flower-  or  fruit-product.  Na- 
ture produces  the  apple  tree,  but  man  must  cul- 
tivate it  and  feed  it  if  he  would  be  fed  and 
comforted  by  it.  People  who  neglect  their  or- 
chards can  get  neither  pleasure  nor  profit  from 
them,  and  such  persons  are  not  competent  to  sit 
in  judgment  upon  the  value  of  an  apple  tree. 
Only  those  who  love,  nourish,  and  profit  by  their 
orchards  may  come  into  the  apple  court  and 
speak  with  authority. 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE   TIMOTHY    HARVEST 

On  Friday,  the  25th,  the  children  came  home 
from  their  schools,  and  with  them  came  Jim 
Jarvis  to  spend  the  summer  holidays.  Our  in- 
vitation to  Jarvis  had  been  unanimous  when  he 
bade  us  good-by  in  the  winter.  Jack  was  his 
chum,  Polly  had  adopted  him,  I  took  to  him 
from  the  first,  and  Jane,  in  her  shy  way,  admired 
him  greatly.  The  boys  took  to  farm  life  like 
ducks  to  water.  They  were  hot  for  any  kind 
of  work,  and  hot,  too,  from  all  kinds.  I  could 
not  offer  anything  congenial  until  the  timothy 
harvest  in  July.  When  this  was  on,  they  were 
happy  and  useful  at  the  same  time,  —  a  rare 
combination  for  boys. 

The  timothy  harvest  is  attractive  to  all,  and 
it  would  be  hard  to  find  a  form  of  labor  which 
contributes  more  to  the  aesthetic  sense  than  does 
the  gathering  of  this  fragrant  grass.  At  four 
o'clock  on  a  fine  morning,  with  the  barometer 
"  set  fair,"  Thompson  started  the  mower,  and 
kept  it  humming  until  6.30,  when  Zeb,  with  a 
fresh  team,  relieved  him.  Zeb  tried  to  cut  a 
little  faster  than  his  father,  but  he  was  allowed 

230 


THE  TIMOTHY  HARVEST  231 

no  more  time.  Promptly  at  nine  he  was  called 
in,  and  there  was  to  be  no  more  cutting  that 
day.  At  eleven  o'clock  the  tedder  was  started, 
and  in  two  hours  the  cut  grass  had  been  turned. 
At  three  o'clock  the  rake  gathered  it  into  wind- 
rows, from  which  it  was  rolled  and  piled  into 
heaps,  or  cocks,  of  six  hundred  or  eight  hundred 
pounds  each.  The  cutting  of  the  morning  was 
in  safe  bunches  before  the  dew  fell,  there  to  go 
through  the  process  of  sweating  until  ten  o'clock 
the  next  day.  It  was  then  opened  and  fluffed 
out  for  four  hours,  after  which  all  hands  and  all 
teams  turned  to  and  hauled  it  into  the  forage 
barn. 

The  grass  that  was  cut  one  morning  was  safely 
housed  as  hay  by  the  second  night,  if  the  weather 
was  favorable ;  if  not,  it  took  little  harm  in  the 
haycocks,  even  from  foul  weather.  It  is  the  sun- 
bleach  that  takes  the  life  out  of  hay. 

This  year  we  had  no  trouble  in  getting  fifty 
tons  of  as  fine  timothy  hay  as  horses  could  wish 
to  eat  or  man  could  wish  to  see.  We  began  to 
cut  on  Tuesday,  the  6th  of  July,  and  by  Saturday 
evening  the  twenty-acre  crop  was  under  cover. 
The  boys  blistered  their  hands  with  the  fork 
handles,  and  their  faces,  necks,  and  arms  with 
the  sun's  rays,  and  claimed  to  like  the  work  and 
the  blisters.  Indeed,  tossing  clean,  fragrant  hay 
is  work  fit  for  a  prince ;  and  a  man  never  looks 
to  better  advantage  or  more  picturesque  than 
when,  redolent  with  its  perfume,  he  slings  a  jug 


232  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

over  the  crook  in  his  elbow  and  listens  to  the 
gurgle  of  the  home-made  ginger  ale  as  it  changes 
from  jug  to  throat.  There  may  be  joys  in  other 
drinks,  but  for  solid  comfort  and  refreshment  give 
me  a  July  hay-field  at  3  p.m.,  a  jug  of  water  at 
forty-eight  degrees,  with  just  the  amount  of 
molasses,  vinegar,  and  ginger  that  is  Polly's  secret, 
and  I  will  give  cards  and  spades  to  the  broadest 
goblet  of  bubbles  that  was  ever  poured,  and  beat 
it  to  a  standstill.  Add  to  this  a  blond  head 
under  a  broad  hat,  a  thin  white  gown,  such  as 
grasshoppers  love,  and  you  can  see  why  the 
emptying  of  the  jug  was  a  satisfying  function 
in  our  field ;  for  Jane  was  the  one  who  presided 
at  these  afternoon  teas.  Often  Jane  was  not 
alone;  Florence  or  Jessie,  or  both,  or  others, 
made  hay  while  the  sun  shone  in  those  July  days, 
and  many  a  load  went  to  the  barn  capped  with 
white  and  laughter.  The  young  people  decided 
that  a  hay  farm  would  be  ideal  —  no  end  better 
than  a  factory  farm  —  and  advised  me  to  put  all 
the  land  into  timothy  and  clover.  I  was  not  too 
old  to  see  the  beauties  of  haying-time,  with  such 
voluntary  labor ;  but  I  was  too  old  and  too  much 
interested  with  my  experiment  to  be  cajoled  by 
a  lot  of  youngsters.  I  promised  them  a  week  of 
haying  in  each  fifty-two,  but  that  was  all  the 
concession  I  would  make.     Laura  said  :  — 

"  We  are  commanded  to  make  hay  while  the 
sun  shines ;  and  the  sun  always  shines  at  Four 
Oaks,  for  me." 


THE  TIMOTHY  HARVEST  233 

It  was  pretty  of  her  to  say  that ;  but  what 
else  would  one  expect  from  Laura  ? 

The  twelve  acres  from  which  the  fodder  oats 
had  been  cut  were  ploughed  and  fitted  for  sugar 
beets  and  turnips.  I  was  not  at  all  certain  that 
the  beets  would  do  anything  if  sown  so  late,  but 
I  was  going  to  try.  Of  the  turnips  I  could  feel 
more  certain,  for  doth  not  the  poet  say :  — 

"  The  25th  day  of  July, 
Sow  your  turnips,  wet  or  dry"  ? 

As  the  25th  fell  on  Sunday,  I  tried  to  placate  the 
agricultural  poet  by  sowing  half  on  the  24th  and 
the  other  half  on  the  26th,  but  it  was  no  use. 
Whether  the  turnip  god  was  offended  by  the 
fractured  rule  and  refused  his  blessing,  or  whether 
the  dry  August  and  September  prevented  full 
returns,  is  more  than  I  can  say.  Certain  it  is 
that  I  had  but  a  half  crop  of  turnips  and  a  beg- 
garly batch  of  beets  to  comfort  me  and  the  hogs. 
Some  little  consolation,  however,  was  found  in 
Polly's  joy  over  a  small  crop  of  currants  which 
her  yearling  bushes  produced.  I  also  heard 
rumors  of  a  few  cherries  which  turned  their  red 
cheeks  to  the  sun  for  one  happy  day,  and  then 
disappeared.  Cock  Robin's  breast  was  red  the 
next  morning,  and  on  this  circumstantial  evi- 
dence Polly  accused  him.  He  pleaded  "not 
guilty,"  and  strutted  on  the  lawn  with  his 
thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  waistcoat  and  his 
suspected  breast  as  much  in  evidence  as  a  pouter 


234  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

pigeon's.  A  jury,  mostly  of  blackbirds,  found 
the  charge  "  not  proven,"  and  the  case  was  dis- 
missed. I  was  convinced  by  the  result  of  this 
trial  that  the  only  safe  way  would  be  to  provide 
enough  cherries  for  the  birds  and  for  the  people 
too,  and  ordered  fifty  more  trees  for  fall  plant- 
ing. I  found  by  experience,  that  if  one  would 
have  bird  neighbors  (and  who  would  not?),  he 
must  provide  liberally  for  their  wants  and  also 
for  their  luxuries.  I  have  stolen  a  march  as 
to  the  cherries  by  planting  scores  of  mulberry 
trees,  both  native  and  Russian.  Birds  love  mul- 
berries even  better  than  they  do  cherries,  and  we 
now  eat  our  pies  in  peace.  To  make  amends  for 
this  ruse,  I  have  established  a  number  of  drink- 
ing fountains  and  free  baths ;  all  of  which  have 
helped  to  make  us  friends. 

In  August  I  sold,  near  the  top  of  a  low  mar- 
ket, 156  young  hogs.  At  $4.50  per  hundred,  the 
bunch  netted  me  $1807.  They  did  not  weigh 
quite  as  much  as  those  sold  the  previous  autumn, 
and  I  found  two  ways  of  accounting  for  this. 
The  first  and  most  probable  was  that  fall  pigs  do 
not  grow  so  fast  as  those  farrowed  in  the  spring. 
This  is  sufficient  to  account  for  the  fact  that  the 
herd  average  was  twenty  pounds  lighter  than 
that  of  its  predecessor.  I  could  not,  however, 
get  over  the  notion  that  Anderson's  nervousness 
had  in  some  way  taken  possession  of  the  swine 
(we  have  Holy  Writ  for  a  similar  case),  and  that 
they  were   wasted    in    growth   by  his  spirit  of 


THE  TIMOTHY  HARVEST  235 

unrest.  He  was  uniformly  kind  to  them  and 
faithful  with  their  food,  but  there  was  lacking 
that  sense  of  cordial  sympathy  which  should 
exist  between  hog  and  man  if  both  would  appear 
at  their  best.  Even  when  Anderson  came  to 
their  pens  reeking  with  the  rich  savor  of  the  food 
they  loved,  their  ears  would  prick  up  (as  much 
as  a  Chester  White's  ears  can),  and  with  a 
"  woof ! "  they  would  shoot  out  the  door,  only  to 
return  in  a  moment  with  the  greatest  confidence. 
I  never  heard  that  "  woof  "  and  saw  the  stampede 
without  looking  around  for  the  "  steep  place  "  and 
the  "  sea,"  feeling  sure  that  the  incident  lacked 
only  these  accessories  to  make  it  a  catastrophe. 

Anderson  was  good  and  faithful,  and  he  would 
work  his  arms  and  legs  off  for  the  pigs ;  but  the 
spirit  of  unrest  entered  every  herd  which  he  kept, 
though  neither  he  nor  I  saw  it  clearly  enough  to 
go  and  "  tell  it  in  the  city."  With  other  swine- 
herds my  hogs  averaged  from  fifteen  to  eighteen 
pounds  better  than  with  faithful  Anderson,  and 
I  am,  therefore,  competent  to  speak  of  the  gross 
weight  of  the  spirit  of  contentment. 


CHAPTER   XLI 
strike  at  Gordon's  mine 

Frank  Gordon  owned  a  coal  mine  about  six 
miles  west  of  the  village  of  Exeter,  and  four 
miles  from  Four  Oaks.  A  village  called  Gordon- 
ville  had  sprung  up  at  the  mouth  of  the  mine. 
It  was  the  home  of  the  three  hundred  miners 
and  their  families,  —  mostly  Huns,  but  with  a 
sprinkling  of  Cornishmen. 

The  houses  were  built  by  the  owner  of  the 
mine,  and  were  leased  to  the  miners  at  a  small 
yearly  rental.  They  were  modest  in  structure, 
but  they  could  be  made  inviting  and  neat  if  the 
occupants  were  thrifty.  No  one  was  allowed  to 
sell  liquor  on  the  property  owned  by  the  Gordons, 
but  outside  of  this  limit  was  a  fringe  of  low 
saloons  which  did  a  thriving  business  off  the  im- 
provident miners. 

There  had  never  been  a  strike  at  Gordonville, 
and  such  a  thing  seemed  improbable,  for  Gordon 
was  a  kind  master,  who  paid  his  men  promptly 
and  looked  after  their  interests  more  than  is 
usual  for  a  capitalist. 

It  was,  therefore,  a  distinct  surprise  when  the 
foreman  of  the  mine  telephoned  to  Gordon  one 


STRIKE  AT  GORDON'S  MINE  237 

July  morning  that  the  men  had  struck  work. 
Gordon  did  not  understand  the  reason  of  it,  but 
he  expressed  himself  as  being  heartily  glad,  for 
financial  reasons,  that  the  men  had  gone  out. 
He  had  more  than  enough  coal  on  the  surface 
and  in  cars  to  supply  the  demand  for  the  next 
three  months,  and  it  would  be  money  in  his 
pocket  to  dispose  of  his  coal  without  having  to 
pay  for  the  labor  of  replacing  it. 

During  the  day  the  reason  for  the  strike  was 
announced.  From  the  establishment  of  the 
mine  it  had  been  the  custom  for  the  miners  to 
have  their  tools  sharpened  at  a  shop  built  and 
run  by  the  property.  This  was  done  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  men,  and  the  charge  for 
keeping  the  tools  sharp  was  ten  cents  a  week 
for  each  man,  or  $5  a  year.  For  twenty  years 
no  fault  had  been  found  with  the  arrange- 
ment; it  had  been  looked  upon  as  satisfactory, 
especially  by  the  men.  A  walking  delegate, 
mousing  around  the  mine,  and  finding  no  other 
cause  for  complaint,  had  lighted  upon  this  prac- 
tice, and  he  told  the  men  it  was  a  shame  that 
they  should  have  to  pay  ten  cents  a  week  out  of 
their  hard-earned  wages  for  keeping  their  tools 
sharp.  He  said  that  it  was  the  business  of  the 
property  to  keep  the  tools  sharp,  and  that  the 
men  should  not  be  called  upon  to  pay  for  that 
service  ;  that  they  ought,  in  justice  to  themselves 
and  for  the  dignity  of  associated  labor,  to  de- 
mand that  this  onerous  tax  be  removed ;  and,  to 


238  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

insure  its  removal,  lie  declared  a  strike  on.  This 
was  the  reason,  and  the  only  reason,  for  the 
strike  at  Gordon's  mine.  Three  hundred  men 
quit  work,  and  three  hundred  families  suffered, 
many  of  them  for  the  necessities  of  life,  simply 
because  a  loud-mouthed  delegate  assured  them 
that  they  were  being  imposed  upon. 

Things  went  on  quietly  at  the  mine.  There 
was  no  riot,  no  disturbance.  Gordon  did  not  go 
over,  but  simply  telephoned  to  the  superintend- 
ent to  close  the  shaft  houses,  shut  down  the 
engines,  put  out  the  fires,  and  let  things  rest,  at 
the  same  time  saying  that  he  would  hold  the 
superintendent  and  the  bosses  responsible  for  the 
safety  of  the  plant. 

The  men  were  disappointed,  as  the  days  went 
by,  that  the  owner  made  no  effort  to  induce 
them  to  resume  work.  They  had  believed  that 
he  would  at  once  accede  to  their  demand,  and 
that  they  would  go  back  to  work  with  the  tax 
removed.  This,  however,  was  not  his  plan. 
Weeks  passed  and  the  men  became  restless. 
They  frequented  the  saloons  more  generally, 
spent  their  remaining  money  for  liquor,  and 
went  into  debt  as  much  as  they  were  permitted 
for  more  liquor.  They  became  noisy  and  quarrel- 
some. The  few  men  who  were  opposed  to  the 
strike  could  make  no  headway  against  public 
opinion.  These  men  held  aloof  from  the  saloons, 
husbanded  their  money,  and  confined  themselves 
as  much  as  possible  to  their  own  houses. 


STEIKE  AT  GORDON'S  MINE  239 

Things  had  gone  on  in  this  way  for  six  weeks. 
The  men  grew  more  and  more  restless  and  more 
dissipated.  Again  the  walking  delegate  came 
to  encourage  them  to  hold  out.  Mounted  on  an 
empty  coal  car,  he  made  an  inflammatory  speech 
to  the  men,  advising  them  not  only  to  hold  out 
against  the  owner,  but  also  to  prevent  the  em- 
ployment of  any  other  help.  If  this  should  not 
prove  sufficient,  he  advised  them  to  wreck  the 
mining  property  and  to  fire  the  mine,  —  anything 
to  bring  the  owner  to  terms. 

Jack  and  Jarvis  went  for  a  long  walk  one 
day,  and  their  route  took  them  near  Gordonville. 
Seeing  the  men  collected  in  such  numbers  around 
a  coal  car,  they  approached,  and  heard  the  last 
half  of  this  inflammatory  speech.  As  the  walk- 
ing delegate  finished,  Jack  jumped  up  on  the  car, 
and  said :  — 

"  McGinnis  has  had  his  say  ;  now,  men,  let  me 
have  mine.  There  are  always  two  sides  to  a 
question.  You  have  heard  one,  let  me  give  you 
the  other.  I  am  a  delegate,  self-appointed,  from 
the  amalgamated  Order  of  Thinkers,  and  I  want 
you  to  listen  to  our  view  of  this  strike,  —  and  of 
all  strikes.  I  want  you  also  to  think  a  little  as 
well  as  to  listen. 

"You  have  been  led  into  this  position  by  a 
man  whose  sole  business  is  to  foment  discords 
between  working-men  and  their  employers.  The 
moment  these  discords  cease,  that  moment  this 
man  loses  his  job  and  must  work  or  starve  like 


240  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

the  rest  of  you.  He  is,  therefore,  an  interested 
party,  and  he  is  more  than  likely  to  be  biassed  by 
what  seems  to  be  his  interest.  He  has  made  no 
argument ;  he  has  simply  asserted  things  which 
are  not  true,  and  played  upon  your  sympathies, 
emotions,  and  passions,  by  the  use  of  the  stale  war- 
cries  —  '  oppression,'  *  down-trodden  working- 
man,'  'bloated  bond-holders,'  and,  most  foolish 
of  all,  '  the  conflict  between  Capital  and  Labor.' 
You  have  not  thought  this  matter  out  for  your- 
selves at  all.  That  is  why  I  ask  you  to  join 
hands  for  a  little  while  with  the  Order  of 
Thinkers  and  see  if  there  is  not  some  good 
way  out  of  this  dilemma.  McGinnis  said  that 
the  Company  has  no  right  to  charge  you  for 
keeping  your  tools  sharp.  In  one  sense  this  is 
true.  You  have  a  perfect  right  to  work  with 
dull  tools,  if  you  wish  to ;  you  have  the  right  to 
sharpen  your  own  tools ;  and  you  also  have  the 
right  to  hire  any  one  else  to  do  it  for  you.  You 
work  « by  the  ton,'  you  own  your  pickaxes  and 
shovels  from  handle  to  blade,  and  you  have  the 
right  to  do  with  them  as  you  please. 

"  There  are  three  hundred  of  you  who  use  tools  ; 
you  each  pay  ten  cents  a  week  to  the  Company 
for  keeping  them  sharp,  —  that  is,  in  round  num- 
bers, $1500  a  year.  There  are  two  smiths  at  work 
at  $50  a  month  (that  is  $1200),  and  a  helper  at 
$25  a  month  ($300  more),  making  just  $1500  paid 
by  the  Company  in  wages.  If  you  will  think 
this  matter  out,  you  will  see  that  there  is  a  dead 


STRIKE  AT  GORDON'S  MINE  241 

loss  to  the  Company  of  the  coal  used,  the  wear 
and  tear  of  the  instruments,  and  the  interest, 
taxes,  insurance,  and  degeneration  of  the  plant. 
Is  the  Company  under  obligation  to  lose  this 
money  for  you  ?  Not  at  all !  The  Company 
does  this  as  an  accommodation  and  a  gratuity 
to  you,  but  not  as  a  duty.  Just  as  much  coal 
would  be  taken  from  the  Gordon  mine  if  your 
tools  were  never  sharpened,  only  it  would  require 
more  men,  and  you  would  earn  less  money  apiece. 
You  could  not  get  this  sharpening  done  at  pri- 
vate shops  so  cheaply,  and  you  cannot  do  it 
yourselves.  You  have  no  more  right  to  ask  the 
Company  to  do  this  work  for  nothing  than  you 
have  to  ask  it  to  buy  your  tools  for  you.  It 
would  be  just  as  sensible  for  you  to  strike  be- 
cause the  Company  did  not  send  each  of  you  ten 
cents'  worth  of  ice-cream  every  Sunday  morning, 
as  it  is  for  you  to  go  out  on  this  matter  of  sharp- 
ening tools. 

"But,  suppose  the  Company  were  in  duty 
bound  to  do  this  thing  for  you,  and  suppose  it 
should  refuse ;  would  that  be  a  good  reason  for 
quitting  work  ?  Not  by  any  means  !  You  are 
earning  an  average  of  12  a  day,  —  nearly  $16,000 
a  month.  You've  '  been  out '  six  weeks.  If  you 
gain  your  point,  it  will  take  you  fifteen  years  to 
make  up  what  you've  already  lost.  If  you  have 
the  sense  which  God  gives  geese,  you  will  see 
that  you  can't  afford  this  sort  of  thing. 

"  But  the  end  is  not  yet.     You  are  likely  to 


242  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

stay  out  six  weeks  longer,  and  each  six  weeks 
adds  another  fifteen  years  to  your  struggle  to 
catch  up  with  your  losses.  Is  this  a  load  which 
thinking  people  would  impose  upon  themselves  ? 
Not  much !  You  will  lose  your  battle,  for  your 
strike  is  badly  timed.  It  seems  to  be  the  fate 
of  strikes  to  be  badly  timed ;  they  usually  occur 
when,  on  account  of  hard  times  or  over-supply, 
the  employers  would  rather  stop  paying  wages 
than  not.  That's  the  case  now.  Four  months 
of  coal  is  in  yards  or  on  cars,  and  it's  an  absolute 
benefit  to  the  Company  to  turn  seventy  or  eighty 
thousand  dollars  of  dead  product  into  live  money. 
Don't  deceive  yourselves  with  the  hope  that 
you  are  distressing  the  owner  by  your  foolish 
strike ;  you  are  putting  money  into  his  pockets 
while  your  families  suffer  for  food.  There  is  no 
great  principle  at  stake  to  make  your  conduct 
seem  noble  and  to  call  forth  sympathy  for  your 
suffering,  —  only  foolishness  and  the  blind  follow- 
ing of  a  demagogue  whose  living  depends  upon 
your  folly. 

"McGinnis  talked  to  you  about  the  conflict 
between  capital  and  labor.  That  is  all  rot. 
There  is  not  and  there  cannot  be  such  a  conflict. 
Labor  makes  capital,  and  without  capital  there 
would  be  no  object  in  labor.  They  are  mutually 
dependent  upon  each  other,  and  there  can  be  no 
quarrel  between  them,  for  neither  could  exist 
after  the  death  of  the  other.  The  capitalist  is 
only  a  laborer  who  has  saved  a  part  of  his  wages, 


STRIKE  AT  GORDON'S  MINE  243 

—  either  in  his  generation  or  in  some  preceding 
one.  Any  man  with  a  sound  mind  and  a  sound 
body  can  become  a  capitalist.  When  the  laborer 
has  saved  one  dollar  he  is  a  capitalist,  —  he  has 
money  to  lend  at  interest  or  to  invest  in  some- 
thing that  will  bring  a  return.  The  second 
dollar  is  easier  saved  than  the  first,  and  every 
dollar  saved  is  earning  something  on  its  own  ac- 
count. All  persons  who  have  money  to  invest  or 
to  lend  are  capitalists.  Of  course,  some  are  great 
and  some  are  small,  but  all  are  independent,  for 
they  have  more  than  they  need  for  immediate 
personal  use. 

« I  am  going  to  tell  you  how  you  may  all 
become  capitalists ;  but  first  I  want  to  point  out 
your  real  enemies.  The  employer  is  not  your 
enemy,  capital  is  not  your  enemy,  but  the  saloon- 
keeper is,  —  and  the  most  deadly  enemy  you  can 
possibly  have.  In  that  fringe  of  shanties  over 
yonder  live  the  powers  that  keep  you  down ; 
there  are  the  foes  that  degrade  you  and  your 
families,  forcing  you  to  live  little  better  than 
wild  beasts.  Your  food  is  poor,  your  clothing 
is  in  rags,  your  children  are  without  shoes,  your 
homes  are  desolate,  there  are  no  schools  and  no 
social  life.  Year  follows  year  in  dreary  mono- 
tone, and  you  finally  die,  and  your  neighbors 
thrust  you  underground  and  have  an  end  of  you. 
Misery  and  wretchedness  fill  the  measure  of  your 
days,  and  you  are  forgotten. 

"  This  dull,  brutish  condition  is  self-imposed, 


244  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  to  what  end  ?  That  some  dozen  harpies 
may  fatten  on  your  flesh ;  that  your  labor  may 
give  them  leisure ;  that  your  suffering  may  give 
them  pleasure ;  that  your  sweat  may  cool  their 
brows,  and  your  money  fill  their  tills ! 

"  What  do  you  get  in  return  ?  Whiskey,  to 
poison  your  bodies  and  pervert  your  minds ; 
whiskey,  to  make  you  fierce  beasts  or  dull 
brutes ;  whiskey,  to  make  your  eyes  red  and 
your  hands  unsteady ;  whiskey,  to  make  your 
homes  sties  and  yourselves  fit  occupants  for 
them  ;  whiskey,  to  make  you  beat  your  wives 
and  children ;  whiskey,  to  cast  you  into  the 
gutter,  the  most  loathsome  animal  in  all  the 
world.  This  is  cheap  whiskey,  but  it  costs  you 
dear.  All  that  makes  life  worth  living,  all  that 
raises  man  above  the  brute,  and  all  the  hope  of 
a  future  life,  are  freely  given  for  this  poor 
whiskey.  The  man  who  sells  it  to  you  robs 
you  of  your  money  and  also  of  your  manhood. 
You  pay  him  ten  times  (often  twenty  times)  as 
much  as  it  cost  him,  and  yet  he  poses  as  your 
friend. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  say  anything  against  beer, 
for  I  don't  think  good  beer  is  very  likely  to 
hurt  a  man.  I  will  say  this,  however,  —  you 
pay  more  than  twice  what  it  is  worth.  This  is 
the  point  I  would  make :  beer  is  a  food  of  some 
value,  and  it  should  be  put  on  a  food  basis  in 
price.  It  isn't  more  than  half  as  valuable  as 
milk,  and  it  shouldn't  cost  more  than  half  as 


STRIKE  AT   GORDON'S  MINE  245 

much.  You  can  have  good  beer  at  three  or 
four  cents  a  quart,  if  you  will  let  whiskey  alone. 

"I  promised  to  tell  you  how  to  become  capi- 
talists, each  and  every  one  of  you,  and  I'll  keep 
my  word  if  you'll  listen  to  me  a  little  longer." 

While  Jack  had  been  speaking,  some  of  the 
men  had  shown  considerable  interest  and  had 
gradually  crowded  their  way  nearer  to  the  boy. 
Thirty  or  forty  Cornishmen  and  perhaps  as  many 
others  of  the  better  sort  were  close  to  the  car, 
and  seemed  anxious  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 
Back  of  these,  however,  were  the  large  majority 
of  the  miners  and  the  hangers-on  at  the  saloons, 
who  did  not  wish  to  hear,  and  did  not  mean  that 
others  should  hear,  what  the  boy  had  to  say. 
Led  by  McGinnis  and  the  saloon-keepers,  they 
had  kept  up  such  a  row  that  it  had  been  im- 
possible for  any  one,  except  those  quite  near  the 
car,  to  hear  at  all.  Now  they  determined  to 
stop  the  talk  and  to  bounce  the  boy.  They 
made  a  vigorous  rush  for  the  car  with  shouts 
and  uplifted  hands. 

A  gigantic  Cornishman  mounted  the  car,  and 
said,  in  a  voice  that  could  easily  be  heard  above 
the  shouting  of  the  crowd  :  — 

"  Wait  —  wait  a  bit,  men  !  The  lad  is  a  brave 
one,  and  ye  maun  own  to  that !  There  be  small 
'urt  in  words,  and  mebbe  'e  'ave  tole  a  bit  truth. 
Me  and  me  mates  'ere  are  minded  to  give  un  a 
chance.  If  ye  men  don't  want  to  'ear  'im,  you 
don't  'ave  to  stay ;  but  don't  'e  dare  touchen  with 


246  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

a  finger,  or,  by  God  !  Tom  Carkeek  will  kick  the 
stuffin'  out  en  'e  !  " 

This  was  enough  to  prevent  any  overt  act, 
for  Tom  Carkeek  was  the  champion  wrestler  in 
all  that  county  ;  he  was  fiercer  than  fire  when 
roused,  and  he  would  be  backed  by  every  Cor- 
nishman  on  the  job. 

Jack  went  on  with  his  talk.  "  The  '  Order 
of  Thinkers '  claim  that  you  men  and  all  of  your 
class  spend  one-third  of  your  entire  wages  for 
whiskey  and  beer.  There  are  exceptions,  but 
the  figures  will  hold  good.  I  am  going  to  call 
the  amount  of  your  wages  spent  in  this  way,  one- 
fourth.  The  yearly  pay-roll  of  this  mine  is,  in 
round  numbers,  $200,000.  Fifty  thousand  of  this 
goes  into  the  hands  of  those  harpies,  who  grow 
rich  as  you  grow  poor.  You  are  surprised  at 
these  figures,  and  yet  they  are  too  small.  I 
counted  the  saloons  over  there,  and  I  find  there 
are  eleven  of  them.  Divide  $50,000  into  eleven 
parts,  and  you  would  give  each  saloon  less  than 
$5000  a  year  as  a  gross  business.  Not  one  of 
those  places  can  run  on  the  legitimate  percen- 
tage of  a  business  which  does  not  amount  to 
more  than  that.  Do  you  suppose  these  men  are 
here  from  charitable  motives  or  for  their  health  ? 
Not  at  all.  They  are  here  to  make  money,  and 
they  do  it.  Five  or  six  hundred  dollars  is  a11 
they  pay  for  the  vile  stuff  for  which  they  charge 
you  $5000.  They  rob  you  of  manhood  and  money 
alike. 


STKIRE  AT  GORDON'S  MINE  247 

"  Now,  what  would  be  the  result  if  you  struck 
on  these  robbers  ?  I  will  tell  you.  In  the  first 
place,  you  would  save  $50,000  each  year,  and  you 
would  be  better  men  in  every  way  for  so  doing. 
You  would  earn  more  money,  and  your  children 
would  wear  shoes  and  go  to  school.  That  would 
be  much,  and  well  worth  while ;  but  that  is  not 
the  best  of  it.  I  will  make  a  proposition  to 
you,  and  I  will  promise  that  it  shall  be  carried 
out  on  my  side  exactly  as  I  state  it. 

"This  is  a  noble  property.  In  ten  years  it 
has  paid  its  owner  $500,000,  —  $50,000  a  year. 
It  is  sure  to  go  on  in  this  way  under  good  man- 
agement. I  offer,  in  the  name  of  the  owner,  to 
bond  this  property  to  you  for  $300,000  for  five 
years  at  six  per  cent.  Of  course  this  is  an  un- 
usual opportunity.  The  owner  has  grown  rich 
out  of  it,  and  he  is  now  willing  to  retire  and  give 
others  a  chance.  His  offer  to  you  is  to  sell  the 
mine  for  half  its  value,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to 
give  you  five  years  in  which  to  pay  for  it.  I 
will  add  something  to  this  proposition,  for  I  feel 
certain  that  he  will  agree  to  it.  It  is  this :  Mr. 
Gordon  will  build  and  equip  a  small  brewery  on 
this  property,  in  which  good,  wholesome  beer 
can  be  made  for  you  at  one  cent  a  glass.  You 
are  to  pay  for  the  brewery  in  the  same  way  that 
you  pay  for  the  other  property ;  it  will  cost 
$25,000.  This  will  make  $325,000  which  you  are 
to  pay  during  the  next  five  years.  How  ?  Let 
me  tell  you. 


248  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"  The  property  will  give  you  a  net  income  of 
$40,000  or  $50,000,  and  you  will  save  $50,000  more 
when  you  give  up  whiskey  and  get  your  beer  for 
less  than  one-fourth  of  what  it  now  costs  you. 
The  general  store  at  which  you  have  always 
traded  will  be  run  in  your  interests,  and  all  that 
you  buy  will  be  cheaper.  The  market  will  be  a 
cooperative  one,  which  will  furnish  you  meat, 
fattened  on  your  own  land,  at  the  lowest  price. 
Your  fruit  and  vegetables  will  come  from  these 
broad  acres,  which  will  be  yours  and  will  cost 
you  but  little.  You  will  earn  more  money  be- 
cause you  will  be  sober  and  industrious,  and  your 
money  will  purchase  more  because  you  will  deal 
without  a  middleman.  You  will  be  better  clothed, 
better  fed,  and  better  men.  Your  wives  will 
take  new  interest  in  life,  and  there  will  be  car- 
pets on  your  floors,  curtains  at  your  windows, 
vegetables  behind  your  cottages,  and  flowers  in 
front  of  them. 

"Ail  these  things  you  will  have  with  the 
money  you  are  now  earning,  and  at  the  same 
time  you  will  be  changing  from  the  laborer  to 
the  capitalist.  The  mine  gives  you  a  profit  of 
$40,000,  and  you  save  one-fourth  of  your  wages, 
which  makes  $50,000  more, — $90,000  in  all.  What 
are  you  to  do  with  this  ?  Less  than  $20,000  will 
cover  the  interest.  You  will  have  $70,000  to  pay 
on  the  principal.  This  will  reduce  the  interest 
for  the  next  year  more  than  $3000.  Each  year 
you  can   do  as  well,  and  by  the  time  the  five 


STKIKE  AT  GORDON'S  MINE  249 

years  have  passed  you  will  own  the  mine,  the 
land,  the  brewery,  the  store,  the  market,  and  this 
blessed  blacksmith  shop  about  which  you  have 
had  so  much  fuss,  and  also  a  bank  with  a  paid-up 
capital  of  150,000.  You  are  capitalists,  every  one 
of  you,  at  the  end  of  five  years,  if  you  wish  to 
be,  and  if  jou  are  willing  to  give  up  the  single 
item,  —  whiskey. 

"  Do  you  like  the  plan  ?  Do  you  like  the 
prospect  ?  Turn  it  over  and  see  what  objections 
you  can  find.  If  you  are  willing  to  go  into  it, 
come  over  to  Four  Oaks  some  day  and  we  will 
go  more  into  details.  McGinnis  gave  you  one 
side  of  the  picture :  I  have  given  you  the  other. 
You  are  at  liberty  to  follow  whichever  you 
please." 

Jack  and  Jarvis  jumped  off  the  car  and  struck 
out  for  home.  Carkeek  and  his  Cornishmen  fol- 
lowed the  lads  until  they  were  well  clear  of  the 
village,  to  protect  them,  and  then  Carkeek  said:  — 

"Me  and  the  others  like  for  to  hear  'e  talk, 
mister,  and  we  like  for  to  'ear  'e  talk  more." 

"  All  right,  Goliath,"  said  Jack.  "  Come  over 
any  time  and  we'll  make  plans." 


CHAPTER   XLII 

THE   RIOT 

Two  days  later  the  boys,  returning  from  the 
city,  were  met  by  Jane  and  Jessie  in  the  big 
carriage  to  be  driven  home.  Halfway  to  Four 
Oaks  the  carriage  suddenly  halted,  and  a  con- 
fused murmur  of  angry  voices  gave  warning  of 
trouble.  Jack  opened  the  door  and  stood  upon 
the  step. 

"  Fifteen  or  twenty  drunken  miners  block  the 
way,  —  they  are  holding  the  horses,"  said  he. 

"  Let  me  out ;  I'll  soon  clear  the  road,"  said 
Jarvis,  trying  to  force  his  way  past  Jack. 

"  Sit  still,  Hercules ;  I  am  slower  to  wrath 
than  you  are.  Let  me  talk  to  them,"  and  Jack 
took  three  or  four  steps  forward,  followed  closely 
by  Jarvis. 

« Well,  men,  what  do  you  want  ?  There  is 
no  good  in  stopping  a  carriage  on  the  highroad." 

"  We  want  work  and  money  and  bread,"  said 
a  great  bearded  Hun  who  was  nearest  to  Jack. 

"  This  is  no  way  to  get  either.  We  have  no 
work  to  offer,  there  is  no  bread  in  the  carriage, 
and  not  much  money.  You  are  dead  wrong  in 
this   business,  and   you   are   likely  to  get   into 

260 


THE  EIOT  251 

trouble.  I  can  make  some  allowance  when  I 
remember  the  bad  whiskey  that  is  in  you,  but 
you  must  get  out  of  our  way ;  the  road  is  pub- 
lic and  we  have  the  right  to  use  it." 

"  Not  until  you  have  paid  toll,"  said  the  Hun. 

"  That's  the  rooster  who  said  we  drank  whis- 
key and  didn't  work.  He's  the  fellow  who 
would  rob  a  poor  man  of  his  liberty,"  came  a 
voice  in  the  crowd. 

«  Knock  his  block  off  ! " 

"  Break  his  back ! " 

"  Let  me  at  him,"  and  a  score  of  other  friendly 
offers  came  from  the  drunken  crowd. 

Jack  stood  steadily  looking  at  the  ruffians,  his 
blue  eyes  growing  black  with  excitement  and  his 
hands  clenched  tightly  in  the  pockets  of  his  reefer. 

"  Slowly,  men,  slowly,"  said  he.  "  If  you 
want  me,  you  may  have  me.  There  are  ladies 
in  the  carriage ;  let  them  go  on  ;  I'll  stay  with 
you  as  long  as  you  like.  You  are  brave  men, 
and  you  have  no  quarrel  with  ladies." 

"  Ladies,  eh  !  "  said  the  Hun,  "  ladies  !  I  never 
saw  anything  but  women.  Let's  have  a  look  at 
them,  boys." 

This  speech  was  drunkenly  approved,  and  the 
men  pressed  forward.  Jack  stood  firm,  his  face 
was  white,  but  his  eyes  flamed. 

"  Stand  off !  There  are  good  men  who  will 
die  for  those  ladies,  and  it  will  go  hard  but  bad 
men  shall  die  first." 

The  Hun  disregarded  the  warning. 


252  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"  I'll  have  a  look  into  —  " 

"  Hell !  "  said  the  slow-of-wrath  Jack,  and  his 
fist  went  straight  from  the  shoulder  and  smote 
the  Hun  on  the  point  of  the  jaw.  It  was  a 
terrible  blow,  dealt  with  all  the  force  of  a 
trained  athlete,  and  inspired  by  every  impulse 
which  a  man  holds  dear ;  and  the  half-drunken 
brute  fell  like  a  stricken  ox.  Catching  the  club 
from  the  falling  man,  Jack  made  a  sudden  lunge 
forward  at  the  face  of  the  nearest  foe. 

"  Now,  Jim  ! "  he  shouted,  as  the  full  fever 
of  battle  seized  him.  His  forward  lunge  had 
placed  another  miner  hors  de  combat,  and  Jarvis 
sprang  forward  and  secured  the  wounded  man's 
bludgeon. 

"  Back  to  back,  Jack,  and  mind  your  guard  ! " 

The  odds  were  eighteen  to  two  against  the 
young  men,  but  they  did  not  heed  them.  Back 
to  back  they  stood,  and  the  heavy  clubs  were 
like  feathers  in  their  strong  hands.  Their  skill 
at  "  single  stick  "  was  of  immense  advantage,  for 
it  built  a  wall  of  defence  around  them.  The 
crazy-drunk  miners  rushed  upon  them  with  the 
fierceness  of  wild  beasts ;  they  crowded  in  so 
close  as  to  interfere  with  their  own  freedom  of 
movement ;  they  sought  to  overpower  the  two 
men  by  weight  of  numbers  and  by  showers  of 
blows.  Jack  and  Jim  were  kept  busy  guarding 
their  own  heads,  and  it  was  only  occasionally 
that  they  could  give  an  aggressive  blow.  When 
these    opportunities    came,   they    were   accepted 


THE  RIOT  253 

with  fierce  delight,  and  a  miner  fell  with  a 
broken  head  at  every  blow.  Two  fell  in  front 
of  Jack  and  three  went  down  under  Jarvis's  club. 
The  battle  had  now  lasted  several  minutes,  and 
the  strain  on  the  young  men  was  telling  on  their 
wind ;  they  struck  as  hard  and  parried  as  well 
as  at  first,  but  they  were  breathing  rapidly.  The 
young  men  cheered  each  other  with  joyous  words  ; 
they  felt  no  need  of  aid. 

"  Beats  football  hollow  !  "  panted  Jarvis. 

"Go  in,  old  man  !  you're  a  dandy  full-back  !  " 
came  between  strokes  from  Jack. 

Let  us  leave  the  boys  for  a  minute  and  see 
what  the  girls  are  doing.  When  Jarvis  got  out 
of  the  carriage,  he  said :  — 

"  Lars,  if  there  is  trouble  here,  you  drive  on  as 
soon  as  you  can  get  your  horses  clear.  Never 
mind  us ;  we'll  walk  home.  Get  the  ladies  to 
Four  Oaks  as  soon  as  possible." 

When  the  battle  began,  the  miners  left  the 
horses  to  attack  the  men.  This  gave  a  clear 
road,  and  Lars  was  ready  to  drive  on,  but  the 
girls  were  not  in  the  carriage.  They  had  sprung 
out  in  the  excitement  of  the  first  sound  of  blows ; 
and  now  stood  watching  with  glowing  eyes  and 
white  faces  the  prowess  of  their  champions.  For 
minutes  they  watched  the  conflict  with  fear  and 
pride  combined.  When  seven  or  eight  minutes 
had  passed  and  the  champions  had  not  slain  all 
their  enemies,  some  degree  of  terror  arose  in  the 
minds  of   the  young  ladies,  —  terror  lest   their 


254  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

knights  be  overpowered  by  numbers  or  become 
exhausted  by  slaying,  —  and  they  looked  about 
for  aid.  Lars,  remembering  what  Jarvis  had 
said,  urged  the  ladies  to  get  into  the  carriage 
and  be  driven  out  of  danger.  They  repelled  his 
advice  with  scorn.     Jane  said:  — 

"  I  won't  stir  a  step  until  the  men  can  go 
with  us ! " 

Jessie  said  never  a  word,  but  she  darted  for- 
ward toward  the  fighting  men,  stooped,  picked 
up  a  fallen  club,  and  was  back  in  an  instant. 
Mounting  quickly  to  the  box,  she  said :  — 

"  I  can  hold  the  horses.  Don't  you  think  you 
can  help  the  men,  Lars  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  try,  miss,"  and  the  coachman's 
coat  was  off  in  a  trice  and  the  club  in  his  hand. 
He  was  none  too  soon ! 

Jane,  who  had  mounted  the  box  with  Jessie, 
cried,  "  Look  out,  Jack ! "  just  as  a  heavy  stone 
crashed  against  the  back  of  his  head.  Some  brute 
in  the  crowd  had  sent  it  with  all  his  force.  The 
stone  broke  through  the  Derby  hat  and  opened  a 
wide  gash  in  Jack's  scalp,  and  sent  him  to  the 
ground  with  a  thousand  stars  glittering  before 
his  eyes.  Jane  gave  a  sob  and  covered  her  eyes. 
Jessie  swayed  as  though  she  would  fall,  but  she 
never  took  her  eyes  from  the  fallen  man  ;  her  lips 
moved,  but  she  said  nothing ;  and  her  face  was 
ghastly  white.  Jarvis  heard  the  dull  thud 
against  Jack's  head  and  knew  that  he  was  fall- 
ing.     Whirling   swiftly,   he   stopped   a   savage 


THE  RIOT  255 

blow  that  was  aimed  at  the  stricken  man,  and 
with  a  back-handed  cut  laid  the  striker  low. 

"  All  right,  Jack ;  keep  down  till  the  stars  are 
gone."  He  stood  with  one  sturdy  leg  on  each 
side  of  Jack's  body  and  his  big  club  made  a 
charmed  circle  about  him.  It  was  not  more 
than  twenty  seconds  before  the  wheels  were  out 
of  Jack's  head  and  he  was  on  his  feet  again, 
though  not  quite  steady. 

Jack's  fall  had  given  courage  to  the  gang,  and 
they  made  a  furious  attack  upon  Jarvis,  who  was 
now  alone  and  not  a  little  impeded  by  the  friend 
at  his  feet.  As  Jack  struggled  to  his  legs,  a  furi- 
ous blow  directed  at  him  was  parried  by  Jarvis's 
left  arm,  —  his  right  being  busy  guarding  his 
own  head.  The  blow  was  a  fearful  one ;  it 
broke  the  small  bone  in  the  forearm,  beat  down 
the  guard,  and  came  with  terrible  force  upon 
poor  Jack's  left  shoulder,  disabling  it  for  a 
minute.  At  the  same  time  Jarvis  received  a 
nasty  blow  across  the  face  from  an  unexpected 
quarter.  He  was  staggered  by  it,  but  he  did  not 
fall.  Jack's  right  arm  was  good  and  very  angry  ; 
a  savage  jab  with  his  club  into  the  face  of  the 
man  who  had  struck  Jarvis  laid  him  low,  and 
Jack  grinned  with  satisfaction. 

Things  were  going  hard  with  the  young  men. 
They  had,  indeed,  disqualified  nine  of  the  enemy  ; 
but  there  were  still  eight  or  ten  more,  and  through 
hard  work  and  harder  knocks  they  had  lost 
more  than  half  their  own  fighting  strength.     At 


256  THE   FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

this  rate  they  would  be  used  up  completely 
while  there  were  still  three  or  four  of  the  enemy 
on  foot.  This  was  when  they  needed  aid,  and 
aid  came. 

No  sooner  had  Lars  found  himself  at  liberty 
and  with  a  club  in  his  hands  than  he  began  to 
use  it  with  telling  effect.  He  attacked  the  outer 
circle,  striking  every  head  he  could  reach,  and 
such  was  his  sprightliness  that  four  men  fell 
headlong  before  the  others  became  aware  of 
this  attack  from  the  rear.  This  diversion  came 
at  the  right  moment,  and  proved  effective.  There 
were  now  but  six  of  the  enemy  in  fighting  condi- 
tion, and  these  six  were  more  demoralized  by  the 
sudden  and  unknown  element  of  a  rear  attack 
than  by  the  loss  of  their  thirteen  comrades.  They 
hesitated,  and  half  turned  to  look,  and  two  of 
them  fell  under  the  blows  of  Jack  and  Jarvis. 
As  the  rest  turned  to  escape,  the  Swede's  club 
felled  one,  and  the  other  three  ran  for  dear  life. 
They  did  not  escape,  however,  for  the  long  legs 
of  the  young  men  were  after  them.  Young 
blood  is  hot,  and  the  savage  fight  that  had  been 
forced  upon  these  boys  had  aroused  all  that  was 
savage  in  them.  In  an  instant  they  overtook 
two  of  the  fleeing  men,  but  neither  could  strike 
an  enemy  in  the  back.  Throwing  aside  their 
clubs,  each  seized  his  enemy  by  the  shoulder, 
turned  him  face  to  face  and  smote  him  sore, 
each  after  his  fashion.  Then  they  laughed,  took 
hold  of  hands,  and  walked  wearily  back  to  the 


THE  EIOT  257 

carriage.  Jarvis's  face  was  covered  with  blood, 
and  Jack's  neck  and  shoulders  were  drenched,  — 
his  wound  had  bled  freely.  Lars  had  relieved 
the  ladies  on  the  box  after  administering  kicks 
and  blows  in  generous  measure  to  the  dazed  and 
crippled  miners,  who  were  crawling  off  the  road 
or  staggering  along  it.  The  Swede  had  a  strain 
of  fierce  North  blood  which  was  not  easily  laid 
when  once  aroused,  and  he  glared  around  the 
battle-field,  hoping  to  find  signs  of  resistance. 
When  none  were  to  be  seen,  he  donned  his 
coachman's  coat  and  sat  the  box  like  a  sphinx. 

The  girls  went  quickly  forward  to  meet  the 
men.  They  said  little,  but  they  put  their  hands 
on  their  battered  champions  in  a  way  to  make 
the  heart  of  man  glad.  The  men  were  flushed 
and  proud,  as  men  have  been,  and  men  will  be, 
through  all  time,  when  they  have  striven  sav- 
agely against  other  savages  in  the  sight  of  their 
mistresses,  and  have  gained  the  victory.  Their 
bruises  were  numb  with  exultation  and  their 
wounds  dumb  with  pride.  There  was  no  regret 
for  blows  given  or  received,  —  no  sympathy  for 
fallen  foe.  The  male  fights,  in  the  presence  of 
the  female,  with  savage  delight,  from  the  lowest 
to  the  highest  ranks  of  creation,  and  we  must 
forgive  our  boys  for  some  cruel  exultation  as  they 
looked  on  the  field  of  strife.  Better  feelings  will 
come  when  the  blood  flows  less  rapidly  in  their 
veins ! 

"  We  must  hurry  home,"  said  Jane,  "  and  let 


258  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

papa  mend  you."  Then  she  burst  into  tears. 
"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  and  so  frightened  !  Do  you 
feel  very  bad,  Jack  ?  I  know  you  are  suffering 
dreadfully,  Mr.  Jarvis.  Can't  I  do  something  for 
you  ?  " 

"  My  arm  is  bruised  a  bit,"  said  Jarvis ;  "  if 
you  don't  mind,  you  can  steady  it  a  little." 

Jane's  soft  hands  clasped  themselves  tenderly 
over  Jarvis's  great  fist,  and  she  felt  relieved  in 
the  thought  that  she  was  doing  something  for 
her  hero.  She  held  the  great  right  hand  of  Her- 
cules tenderly,  and  Jarvis  never  let  her  know 
that  it  was  the  left  arm  that  had  been  broken. 
She  felt  certain  that  he  must  be  suffering  agony, 
for  ever  and  anon  his  fingers  would  close  over 
hers  with  a  spasmodic  grip  that  sent  a  thrill  of 
mixed  joy  and  pain  to  her  heart. 

While  I  was  bandaging  the  broken  arm  I  saw 
the  young  lady  going  through  some  pantomimic 
exercises  with  her  hands,  as  if  seeking  to  revive 
the  memory  of  some  previous  position ;  then  her 
face  blazed  with  a  light,  half  pleasure  and  half 
shame,  and  she  disappeared. 

When  the  carriage  arrived  at  Four  Oaks,  the 
story  was  told  in  few  words,  and  I  immediately 
set  to  work  to  "  mend  "  the  boys.  Jack  insisted 
that  Jarvis  should  receive  the  first  attention,  and, 
indeed,  he  looked  the  worse.  But  after  washing 
the  blood  off  his  face,  I  found  that  beyond  a 
severe  bruise,  which  would  disfigure  him  for  a 
few  days,  his  face  and  head  were  unhurt.     His 


THE  RIOT  259 

arm  was  broken  and  badly  contused.  After  I 
had  attended  to  it,  he  said :  — 

"  Doctor,  I'm  as  good  as  new  ;  hope  Jack  is  no 
worse." 

I  carefully  washed  the  blood  off  Jack's  head 
and  neck,  and  found  an  ugly  scalp  wound  at  least 
three  inches  long.  It  made  me  terribly  anxious 
until  I  fairly  proved  that  the  bone  was  uninjured. 
After  giving  the  boy  the  tonsure,  I  put  six  stitches 
into  the  scalp,  and  he  never  said  a  word.  Per- 
haps the  cause  of  this  fortitude  could  be  found 
in  the  blazing  eyes  of  Jessie  Gordon,  which  fixed 
his  as  a  magnet,  while  her  hands  clasped  his 
tightly.  Miss  Jessie  was  as  white  as  snow,  but 
there  was  no  tremor  in  hand  or  eye.  When  it 
was  all  over,  her  voice  was  steady  and  low  as 
she  said :  — 

"Jack  Williams,  in  the  olden  days  men  fought 
for  women,  and  they  were  called  knights.  It 
was  counted  a  noble  thing  to  take  peril  in  de- 
fence of  the  helpless.  I  find  no  record  of  more 
knightly  deed  than  you  have  done  to-day,  and  I 
know  that  no  knight  could  have  done  it  more 
nobly.  I  want  you  to  wear  this  favor  on  your 
hand." 

She  kissed  his  hand  and  left  the  room.  Jack 
didn't  seem  to  mind  the  wound  in  his  head,  but 
he  gave  great  attention  to  his  hand. 


CHAPTER   XLIII 

THE    RESULT 

As  soon  as  the  first  report  of  the  battle  reached 
me,  I  telephoned  to  Bill  Jackson,  asking  him  to 
come  at  once  to  Four  Oaks  and  to  bring  a  man 
with  him.  When  he  arrived,  attended  by  his 
big  Irishman,  my  men  had  already  put  one  of  the 
farm  teams  to  a  great  farm  wagon,  and  had  filled 
the  box  nearly  full  of  hay.  We  gave  Jackson  a 
hurried  account  of  the  fight  and  asked  him  to  go 
at  once  and  offer  relief  to  the  wounded, — if  such 
relief  were  needed.  Jackson  was  willing  enough 
to  go,  but  he  was  greatly  disappointed  that  he 
had  missed  the  fight ;  it  seemed  unnatural  that 
there  should  be  a  big  fight  in  his  neighborhood 
and  he  not  in  it. 

"  I'd  give  a  ten-acre  lot  to  have  been  with  you, 
lads,"  said  the  big  farmer  as  he  started  off. 

Word  had  been  sent  to  Dr.  High  to  be  ready 
to  care  for  some  broken  heads.  Two  hours  later 
I  drove  to  the  Inn  at  Exeter  and  found  the  doc- 
tor just  commencing  the  work  of  repair.  Thir- 
teen men  had  been  brought  in  by  the  wagon, 
twelve  of  them  more  or  less  cut  and  bruised 
about  the  head,  and  all    needing  some  surgical 

200 


THE  EESULT  261 

attention.  The  thirteenth  man  was  stone  dead. 
A  terrific  blow  on  the  back  of  the  head  had 
crushed  his  skull  as  if  it  had  been  an  egg-shell, 
and  he  must  have  died  instantly.  After  looking 
this  poor  fellow  over  to  make  sure  that  there  was 
no  hope  for  him,  we  turned  our  attention  to  the 
wounded.  The  barn  had  been  turned  into  a 
hospital,  and  in  two  hours  we  had  a  dozen  sore 
heads  well  cared  for,  and  their  owners  com- 
fortably placed  for  the  night  on  soft  hay  covered 
by  blankets  from  the  Inn.  Mrs.  French  brought 
tea  and  gruels  for  the  thirsty,  feverish  fellows, 
and  we  placed  Otto  and  the  big  Irishman  on 
duty  as  nurses  for  the  night.  The  coroner  had 
been  summoned,  and  arrived  as  we  finished  our 
work.  He  was  an  energetic  official,  and  lost  no 
time  in  getting  a  jury  of  six  to  listen  to  the 
statements  which  the  wounded  men  would  give. 
To  their  credit  be  it  said  that  every  one  who  gave 
testimony  at  all,  gave  it  to  the  effect  that  the 
miners  were  crazy-drunk,  that  they  stopped  the 
carriage,  provoked  the  fight,  and  did  their  utmost 
to  disable  or  destroy  the  enemy.  The  coroner 
would  listen  to  no  further  testimony,  but  gave 
the  case  to  the  jury.  In  five  minutes  their  ver- 
dict was  returned,  "justifiable  and  commendable 
homicide  by  person  unknown  to  the  jury." 

The  news  of  a  fight  and  the  death  of  a  miner 
had  reached  Gordonville,  where  it  created  intense 
excitement.  By  the  time  the  inquest  was  over 
a  crowd  of  at  least  fifty  miners   had   collected 


262  THE   FAT   OF   THE  LAND 

near  the  barn.  Much  grumbling  and  some  loud 
threats  were  heard.  Jackson  took  it  upon  him- 
self to  meet  these  angry  men,  and  no  one  could 
have  done  better.  Stepping  upon  a  box  which 
raised  him  a  foot  or  two  above  the  crowd,  he 
said :  — 

"  See  here,  fellows,  I  want  to  say  a  word  to 
you.  My  name's  Jackson  —  Bill  Jackson  ;  per- 
haps some  of  you  know  me.  If  you  don't,  I'll 
introduce  myself.  I  wasn't  in  this  fight,  —  worse 
luck  for  me  !  but  I  am  wide  open  for  engagements 
in  that  line.  Some  one  inside  said  that  this 
gang  must  be  conciliated,  and  I  thought  I  would 
come  out  and  do  it.  I  understand  that  you  feel 
sore  over  this  affair,  —  it's  natural  that  you 
should,  —  but  you  must  remember  that  those 
boys  out  at  Four  Oaks  couldn't  accommodate  all 
of  you.  If  you  wouldn't  mind  taking  me  for  a 
substitute,  I'll  do  my  level  best  to  make  it  lively 
for  you.  You  don't  need  cards  of  introduction 
to  me ;  you  needn't  be  American  citizens ;  you 
needn't  speak  English  ;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
put  up  your  hands  or  cock  your  hats,  and  I'll 
know  what  you  mean.  If  any  of  you  thinks  he 
hasn't  had  his  share  of  what's  been  going  on  this 
afternoon,  he  may  just  call  on  Bill  Jackson  for 
the  balance.  I  want  to  conciliate  you  if  I  can ! 
I'm  a  good-tempered  man,  and  not  the  kind  to 
pick  a  quarrel ;  but  if  any  of  you  low-lived  dogs 
are  looking  for  a  fight,  I'm  not  the  man  to  dis- 
appoint you !     I  came  out  here  to  satisfy  you  in 


THE  RESULT  283 

this  matter  and  to  send  you  home  contented,  and, 
by  the  jumping  Jews  !  I'll  do  it  if  I  have  to  break 
the  head  of  every  dog's  son  among  you !  They 
told  me  to  speak  gently  to  you,  and  by  thunder, 
I've  done  it ;  but  now  I'm  going  to  say  a  word 
for  myself ! 

"  A  lot  of  your  dirty  crowd  attacked  two  of 
the  decentest  men  in  the  county  when  they  were 
riding  with  ladies ;  one  of  the  gang  got  killed 
and  the  rest  got  their  skulls  cracked.  Would 
these  boys  fight  for  the  girls  they  had  with 
them  ?  Hell's  blazes!  I'll  fight  for  just  thinking 
of  it !  Just  one  of  you  duffers  say  <  boo  '  to  me  ! 
I'm  going  right  through  you ! " 

Jackson  sprang  into  the  crowd,  which  parted 
like  water  before  a  strong  swimmer.  He  cocked 
his  hat,  smacked  his  fists,  and  invited  any  or  all 
to  stand  up  to  him.  He  was  crazy  for  a  fight, 
to  get  even  with  Jack  and  Jarvis ;  but  no  one 
was  willing  to  favor  him.  He  marched  through 
the  gang  lengthways,  crossways,  and  diagonally, 
but  to  no  purpose.  In  great  disgust  he  returned 
to  the  barn  and  reported  that  the  crowd  would 
not  be  "conciliated."  When  we  left,  however, 
there  were  no  miners  to  be  seen. 

It  was  after  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
I  reached  home.  Going  directly  to  the  room  oc- 
cupied by  the  boys,  I  met  Polly  on  the  stairs. 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come,"  said  she,  "  for  I  can't 
do  a  thing  with  those  boys ;  they  are  too  wild 
for  any  use." 


264  THE  FAT  OF  THE   LAND 

Entering  the  room,  I  found  the  lads  in  bed, 
but  hilarious.  They  had  sent  for  Lars  and  had 
filled  him  full  of  hot  stuff  and  commendation. 
He  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair  between 
the  two  beds,  his  honest  eyes  bulging  and  his 
head  rolling  from  the  effects  of  unusual  pota- 
tions. The  lads  had  tasted  the  cup,  too,  but 
lightly ;  their  high  spirits  came  from  other 
sources.  Victories  in  war  and  in  love  deserve 
celebration  ;  and  when  the  two  are  united,  a  bit 
of  freedom  must  be  permitted.  They  sat  bolt 
upright  against  the  heads  of  their  beds  with 
flushed  faces  and  shining  eyes.  They  shouted 
Greek  and  Latin  verse  at  the  bewildered  Swede ; 
they  gave  him  the  story  of  Lars  Porsena  in  the 
original,  and  then  in  bad  Swedish.  They  called 
him  Lars  Porsena,  —  for  had  he  not  fought  gal- 
lantly ?  Then  he  was  Gustavus  Adolphus,  —  for 
had  he  not  come  to  the  aid  of  the  Protestants 
when  they  were  in  sore  need  ?  And  then  things 
got  mixed  and  the  "  Royal  Swede "  was  Lars 
Adolphus  or  Gustavus  Porsena  Viking  all  in  one. 
The  honest  fellow  was  more  than  half  crazed  by 
strong  waters,  incomprehensible  words,  and  «  jol- 
lying up"  which  the  young  chaps  had  given  him. 

"  See  here,  boys,  don't  you  see  that  you're 
sending  your  noble  Swede  to  his  Lutzen  before 
his  time,  —  not  dead,  indeed,  but  dead  drunk  ? 
This  isn't  the  sort  of  medicine  for  either  of  you ; 
you  should  have  been  asleep  three  hours  ago. 
I'll  take  your  last  victim  home." 


THE   EESULT  265 

We  heard  no  more  from  any  of  the  fighters 
until  nine  in  the  morning.  In  looking  them  over 
I  found  that  the  Swede  had  as  sore  a  head  as 
either  of  the  others,  though  he  had  never  taken 
a  blow. 

Many  friends  came  to  see  the  boys  during  the 
days  of  their  seclusion,  to  congratulate  them  on 
their  fortunate  escape,  and  to  compliment  them 
on  their  skill  and  courage.  The  lads  enjoyed 
being  made  much  of,  and  their  convalescence  was 
short  and  cheerful.  Of  course  Sir  Tom  was  the 
most  constant  and  most  enthusiastic  visitor. 
The  warm-hearted  Irishman  loved  the  boys  al- 
ways, but  now  he  seemed  to  venerate  them. 
The  successful  club  fight  appealed  to  his  national 
instincts  as  nothing  else  could  have  done. 

"  With  twenty  years  off  and  a  shillalah  in  me 
hand  I  would  have  been  proud  to  stand  with  you. 
By  the  Lord,  I'm  asking  too  much !  I'll  yield 
the  twenty  years  and  only  ask  for  the  stick !  " 
And  his  cane  went  whirling  around  his  head, 
now  guarding,  now  striking,  and  now  with  elabo- 
rate flourishes,  after  the  most  approved  Donny- 
brook  fashion. 

"  But,  me  friend  Jarvis,  what  is  this  you  have 
on  your  face  ?  Pond's  Extract !  Oh,  murder ! 
What  is  the  world  coming  to  when  fresh  beef 
and  usquebaugh  are  crowded  to  the  wall  by  bad- 
smelling  water !  Look  at  me  nose ;  it  is  as 
straight  as  God  made  it,  and  yet  many  a  time 
it   has   been   knocked    to  one  side  of  me  face 


266  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

or  spread  all  over  me  features.  Nothing  but 
whiskey  and  raw  beef  could  ever  coax  it  back  ! 
It's  God's  mercy  if  you  are  not  deformed  for 
life,  me  friend.  Such  privileges  are  not  to  be 
neglected  with  impunity.  Let  me  bathe  your 
face  with  whiskey  and  put  a  beef-steak  poultice 
after  it,  and  I'll  have  you  as  handsome  as  a  girl 
in  three  days." 

"  Give  me  the  steak  and  whiskey  inside  and 
I'll  feel  handsome  at  once,"  said  Jarvis. 

"  Oh,  the  rashness  of  youth !  "  said  Sir  Tom. 
"  But  I'll  not  say  a  word  against  it.  Youth  is  the 
greatest  luck  in  the  world,  and  I'll  not  copper  it." 

And  then  our  sporting  friend  grew  reminiscent 
and  told  of  a  time  at  Limmer's  when  the  marquis 
and  he  occupied  beds  in  the  same  room,  not  un- 
like our  boys'  room  —  only  smoky  and  dingy  — 
and  poulticed  their  battered  faces  with  beef,  and 
used  usquebaugh  inside  and  outside,  after  ten 
friendly  rounds. 

"  Queensbary's  nose  never  resumed  entirely 
after  that  night,  but  mine  came  back  like  rubber. 
Maybe  it  was  the  beef  —  maybe  it  was  usque- 
baugh ;  me  own  preference  is  in  favor  of  the 
latter." 

Sir  Tom  came  every  day  so  long  as  the  boys 
were  confined  to  the  place,  and  each  day  he  was 
able  to  develop  some  new  incident  connected 
with  the  battle  which  called  for  applause.  After 
hearing  Lars  tell  his  story  for  the  fourth  time, 
he  gave  him  a  ten-dollar  note,  saying :  — 


THE  EESULT  267 

"You  did  nobly  for  a  Swede,  Mr.  Gustavus 
Adolphus,  but  I  would  give  ten  tenners  to  have 
had  your  place  and  your  shillalah,  —  a  Swede  for 
a  match-lock,  but  an  Irishman  for  a  stick." 

Jack  had  hardly  recovered  when  he  was  waited 
on  by  a  committee  from  the  mine  with  a  request 
that  he  would  make  another  speech.  He  was 
asked  to  make  good  his  offer  of  bonding  the 
property,  and  also  to  formulate  a  plan  of  co- 
operation for  the  guidance  of  the  men.  Jack 
had  the  plans  for  a  cooperative  mining  village 
well  digested,  and  was  anxious  to  get  them  be- 
fore the  miners.  As  soon  as  he  was  fit  he  went 
to  Gordonville  to  try  to  organize  the  work. 
Jarvis  of  course  went  with  him,  and  Bill  Jack- 
son and  Sir  Tom  would  not  be  denied ;  they 
did  not  say  so,  but  they  looked  as  if  they  thought 
some  diversion  might  be  found.  In  spite  of  the 
influence  of  strong  whiskey,  however,  the  meet- 
ing passed  off  peacefully.  The  results  that  grew 
from  this  effort  at  reformation  were  so  great  and 
so  far-reaching  that  they  deserve  a  book  for  their 
narration. 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

DEEP    WATERS 

For  sharp  contrasts  give  me  the  dull  country. 
The  unexpected  is  the  usual  in  small  and  in 
great  things  alike  as  they  happen  on  a  farm,  and 
I  make  no  apology  to  the  reader  for  entering 
them  in  my  narrative.  I  only  ask  him,  if  he  be 
a  city  man,  to  take  my  word  for  the  truth  as 
to  the  general  facts.  To  some  elaboration  and 
embellishment  I  plead  guilty,  but  the  ground- 
work is  truth,  and  the  facts  stated  are  as  real 
as  the  foundations  of  my  buildings  or  the  cows 
in  my  stalls.  If  the  fortunate  reader  be  a  coun- 
try man,  he  will  need  no  assurance  from  me,  for 
his  eyes  have  seen  and  his  ears  have  heard  the 
strange  and  startling  episodes  with  which  the 
quiet  country-side  is  filled.  I  do  not  dare  record 
all  the  adventures  which  clustered  around  us  at 
Four  Oaks.  People  who  know  only  the  monoto- 
nous life  of  cities  would  not  believe  the  half  if 
told,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  invite  discredit  upon 
my  story  of  the  making  of  the  factory  farm. 

The  incidents  I  have  given  of  the  strike  at 
Gordon's  mine  are  substantially  correct,  and  I 
would  love  to  follow  them  to  their  sequel,  —  the 

268 


DEEP  WATERS  269 

cooperative  mine ;  but  as  that  is  a  story  by  itself, 
I  cannot  do  it  now.  I  promise  myself,  however, 
the  pleasure  of  writing  a  history  of  this  inno- 
vation in  coal-mining  at  an  early  date.  It  is 
worth  the  world's  knowing  that  a  copartnership 
can  exist  between  three  hundred  equal  partners 
without  serious  friction,  and  that  community  in 
business  interests  on  a  large  scale  can  be  success- 
fully managed  without  any  effort  to  control  per- 
sonal liberty,  either  domestic,  social,  or  religious. 
Indeed,  I  believe  the  success  of  this  experiment 
is  due  largely  to  the  absence  of  any  attempt  to 
superintend  the  private  interests  of  its  members, 
—  the  only  bond  being  a  common  financial  one, 
and  the  one  requisite  to  membership,  ability  to 
save  a  portion  of  the  wages  earned. 

But  to  go  back  to  farm  matters.  In  August 
the  ground  was  stirred  for  the  second  time 
around  the  young  trees.  To  do  this,  the  mulch 
was  turned  back  and  the  surface  for  a  space  of 
three  feet  all  around  the  tree  was  loosened  by 
hoe  or  mattock,  and  the  mulch  was  then  re- 
turned. The  trees  were  vigorous,  and  their 
leaves  had  the  polish  of  health,  in  spite  of  the 
dry  July  and  August.  The  mulching  must  re- 
ceive the  credit  for  much  of  this  thrift,  for  it 
protected  the  soil  from  the  rays  of  the  sun  and 
invited  the  deep  moisture  to  rise  toward  the  sur- 
face. Few  people  realize  the  amount  of  water 
that  enters  into  the  daily  consumption  of  a  tree. 
It  is  said  that  the  four  acres  of  leaf  surface  of 


270  THE   FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

a  large  elm  will  transpire  or  yield  to  evaporation 
eight  tons  of  water  in  a  day,  and  that  it  takes 
more  than  five  hundred  tons  of  water  to  produce 
one  ton  of  hay,  wheat,  oats,  or  other  crop.  This 
seems  enormous ;  but  an  inch  of  rain  on  an  acre 
of  ground  means  more  than  a  hundred  tons  of 
water,  and  precipitation  in  our  part  of  the  coun- 
try is  about  thirty-six  inches  per  annum,  so  that 
we  can  count  on  over  thirty-six  hundred  tons  of 
water  per  acre  to  supply  this  tremendous  evapo- 
ration of  plant  life. 

Water-pot  and  hose  look  foolish  in  the  face  of 
these  figures ;  indeed,  they  are  poor  makeshifts 
to  keep  life  in  plants  during  pinching  times.  A 
much  more  effective  method  is  to  keep  the  soil 
loose  under  a  heavy  mulch,  for  then  the  deep 
waters  will  rise.  In  our  climate  the  tree's  growth 
for  the  year  is  practically  completed  by  July  15, 
and  fortunately  dry  times  rarely  occur  so  early. 
We  are,  therefore,  pretty  certain  to  get  the  wood 
growth,  no  matter  how  dry  the  year,  since  it 
would  take  several  years  of  unusual  drought  to 
prevent  it.  Of  course  the  wood  is  not  all  that 
we  wish  for  in  fruit  trees ;  the  fruit  is  the  main 
thing,  and  to  secure  the  best  development  of  it 
an  abundant  rainfall  is  needed  after  the  wood  is 
grown.  If  the  rain  doesn't  come  in  July  and 
August,  heavy  mulching  must  be  the  fruit-grow- 
er's reliance,  and  a  good  one  it  will  prove  if  the 
drought  doesn't  continue  more  than  one  year. 
After  July  the  new  wood  hardens  and  gets  ready 


DEEP   WATERS  271 

for  the  trying  winter.  If  July  and  August  are 
very  wet,  growth  may  continue  until  too  late  for 
the  wood  to  harden,  and  it  consequently  goes  into 
winter  poorly  prepared  to  resist  its  rigors.  The 
result  is  a  killing  back  of  the  soft  wood,  but 
usually  no  serious  loss  to  the  trees.  The  effort 
to  stimulate  late  summer  growth  by  cultivation 
and  fertilization  is  all  wrong ;  use  manures  and 
fertilizers  freely  from  March  until  early  June,  but 
not  later.  The  fall  mulch  of  manure,  if  used,  is 
more  for  warmth  than  for  fertility ;  it  is  a 
blanket  for  the  roots,  but  much  of  its  value  is 
leached  away  by  the  suns  and  rains  of  winter. 

I  felt  that  I  had  made  a  mistake  in  not  sow- 
ing a  cover  crop  in  my  orchard  the  previous 
year.  There  are  many  excellent  reasons  for  the 
cover  crop  and  not  one  against  it.  The  first 
reason  is  that  it  protects  the  land  from  the  rough 
usage  and  wash  of  winter  storms;  the  second, 
that  it  adds  humus  to  the  soil ;  and  the  third,  if 
one  of  the  legumes  is  used,  that  it  collects  nitro- 
gen from  the  air,  stores  it  in  each  knuckle  and 
joint,  and  holds  it  there  until  it  is  liberated  by 
the  decay  of  the  plant.  As  nitrogen  is  the  most 
precious  of  plant  foods,  and  as  the  nitrate  beds 
and  deposits  are  rapidly  becoming  exhausted,  we 
must  look  to  the  useful  legumes  to  help  us  out 
until  the  scientists  shall  be  able  to  fix  the  un- 
limited but  volatile  supply  which  the  atmos- 
phere contains,  and  thus  to  remove  the  certain, 
though  remote,  danger  of  a  nitrogen  famine.    That 


272  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

this  will  be  done  in  the  near  future  by  electric 
forces,  and  with  such  economy  as  to  make  the 
product  available  for  agricultural  purposes,  is 
reasonably  sure.  In  the  meantime  we  must  use 
the  vetches,  peas,  beans,  and  clovers  which  are 
such  willing  workers. 

The  legumes  fulfil  the  three  requisites  of  the 
cover  crop :  protection,  humus,  and  the  storing 
of  nitrogen.  That  was  why,  when  the  corn  in 
the  orchard  was  last  cultivated  in  July,  I  planted 
cow  peas  between  the  rows.  The  peas  made  a 
fair  growth  in  spite  of  the  dry  season,  and  after 
the  corn  was  cut  they  furnished  fine  pasture  for 
the  brood  sows,  that  ate  the  peas  and  trampled 
down  the  vines.  In  the  spring  ploughing  this 
black  mat  was  turned  under,  and  with  it  went  a 
store  of  fertility  to  fatten  the  land.  Cow  peas 
were  sowed  in  all  the  corn  land  in  1897,  and  the 
rule  of  the  farm  is  to  sow  corn-fields  with  peas, 
crimson  clover,  or  some  other  leguminous  plant. 
As  my  land  is  divided  almost  equally  each  year 
between  corn  and  oats,  which  follow  each  other, 
it  gets  a  cover  crop  turned  under  every  two 
years  over  the  whole  of  it.  Great  quantities  of 
manure  are  hauled  upon  the  oat  stubble  in  the 
early  spring,  and  these  fields  are  planted  to  corn, 
while  the  corn  stubble  is  fertilized  by  the  cover 
crop,  and  oats  are  sown.  The  land  is  taxed 
heavily  every  year,  but  it  increases  in  fertility 
and  crop-making  capacity.  For  the  past  two 
years  my  oats  have  averaged  forty-seven  bushels 


DEEP  WATEKS  273 

and  my  corn  nearly  sixty-eight  bushels  per  acre. 
There  is  no  waste  land  in  my  fields,  and  we  have 
made  such  a  strenuous  fight  against  weeds  that 
they  no  longer  seriously  tax  the  land.  The  wis- 
dom of  the  work  done  on  the  fence  rows  is  now 
apparent.  The  ploughing  and  seeding  made  it 
easy  to  keep  the  brush  and  weeds  down;  hay 
gathered  close  to  the  fences  more  than  pays  us 
for  the  mowing ;  and  we  have  no  tall  weed  heads 
to  load  the  wind  with  seeds.  This  is  a  matter 
which  is  not  sufficiently  considered  by  the  major- 
ity of  farmers,  for  weeds  are  allowed  to  tax  the 
land  almost  as  much  as  crops  do,  and  yet  they 
pay  no  rent.  Fence  lines  and  corners  are  usually 
breeding  beds  for  these  pests,  and  it  will  pay  any 
landowner  to  suppress  them. 


CHAPTER   XLV 

DOGS   AND    HORSES 

It  was  definitely  decided  in  August  that  Jane 
was  not  to  go  back  to  Farmington.  We  had  all 
been  of  two  minds  over  this  question,  and  it  was 
a  comfort  to  have  it  settled,  though  I  always 
suspect  that  my  share  of  it  was  not  beyond  the 
suspicion  of  selfishness. 

Jane  was  just  past  nineteen.  She  had  a  fair 
education,  so  far  as  books  go,  and  she  did  not 
wish  to  graduate  simply  for  the  honor  of  a 
diploma.  Indeed,  there  were  many  studies  be- 
tween her  and  the  diploma  which  she  loathed. 
She  could  never  understand  how  a  girl  of  healthy 
mind  could  care  for  mathematics,  exact  science, 
or  dead  languages.  English  and  French  were 
enough  for  her  tongue,  and  history,  literature, 
and  metaphysics  enough  for  her  mind. 

"  I  can  learn  much  more  from  the  books  in 
your  library  and  from  the  dogs  and  horses  than 
I  can  at  school,  besides  being  a  thousand  times 
happier ;  and  oh,  Dad,  if  you  will  let  me  have 
a  forge  and  workshop,  I  will  make  no  end  of 
things." 

274 


DOGS  AND  HORSES  275 

This  was  a  new  idea  to  me,  and  I  looked  into 
it  with  some  interest.  I  knew  that  Jane  was 
deft  with  her  fingers,  but  I  did  not  know  that 
she  had  a  special  wish  to  cultivate  this  deftness 
or  to  put  it  to  practical  use. 

"  What  can  you  do  with  a  forge  ? "  said  I. 
"  You  can't  shoe  the  horses  or  sharpen  the 
ploughs.  Can  you  make  nails  ?  They  are 
machine-made  now,  and  you  couldn't  earn  ten 
cents  a  week,  even  at  horse-shoe  nails." 

"  I  don't  want  to  make  nails,  Dad ;  I  want  to 
work  in  copper  and  brass,  and  iron,  too,  but  in 
girl  fashion.  Mary  Town  has  a  forge  in  Hart- 
ford, and  I  spent  lots  of  Saturdays  with  her. 
She  says  that  I  am  cleverer  than  she  is,  but  of 
course  she  was  jollying  me,  for  she  makes  beauti- 
ful things ;  but  I  can  learn,  and  it's  great  fun." 

"What  kind  of  things  does  this  young  lady 
make,  dear?" 

"Lamp-shades,  paper-knives,  hinges,  bag-tops, 
buckles,  and  lots  of  things.  She  could  sell  them, 
too,  if  she  had  to.  It's  like  learning  a  trade, 
Dad." 

"  All  right,  child,  you  shall  have  a  forge,  if 
you  will  agree  not  to  burn  yourself  up.  Do 
you  roll  up  your  sleeves  and  wear  a  leather 
apron  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,  just  like  a  blacksmith ;  only 
mine  will  be  of  soft  brown  leather  and  pinked 
at  the  edges." 

So  Jane  was  to  have  her  forge.     We  selected 


276  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

a  site  for  it  at  once  in  the  grove  to  the  east  of 
the  house  and  about  150  yards  away,  and  set 
the  carpenter  at  work.  The  shop  proved  to 
be  a  feature  of  the  place,  and  soon  became 
a  favorite  resort  for  old  and  young  for  five 
o'clock  teas  and  small  gossiping  parties.  The 
house  was  a  shingled  cottage,  sixteen  by  thirty- 
two,  divided  into  two  rooms.  The  first  room, 
sixteen  by  twenty,  was  the  company  room, 
but  it  contained  a  work  bench  as  well  as  the 
dainty  trappings  of  a  girl's  lounging  room.  In 
the  centre  of  the  wall  that  separated  the  rooms 
was  a  huge  brick  chimney,  with  a  fireplace  in 
the  front  room  and  a  forge  bed  in  the  rear  room, 
which  was  the  forge  proper. 

I  suppose  I  must  charge  the  $460  which  this 
outfit  cost  to  the  farm  account  and  pay  yearly 
interest  on  it,  for  it  is  a  fixture ;  but  I  protest 
that  it  is  not  essential  to  the  construction  of  a 
factory  farm,  and  it  may  be  omitted  by  those 
who  have  no  daughter  Jane. 

There  were  other  things  hinging  on  Jane's 
home-staying  which  made  me  think  that,  from  the 
standpoint  of  economy,  I  had  made  a  mistake 
in  not  sending  her  back  to  Farmington.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  dog  proposition  was  sprung 
upon  me ;  insidiously  at  first,  until  I  had  half 
committed  myself,  and  then  with  such  force  and 
sweep  as  to  take  me  off  my  prudent  feet.  My 
own  faithful  terrier,  which  had  dogged  my  heels 
for  three  years,  seemed  a  member  of  the  family, 


DOGS  AND  HORSES  277 

and  reasonably  satisfied  my  dog  needs.  That 
Jane  should  wish  a  terrier  of  some  sort  to  tug 
at  her  skirts  and  claw  her  lace  was  no  more 
than  natural,  and  I  was  quite  willing  to  buy  a 
blue  blood  and  think  nothing  of  the  $20  or  $30 
which  it  might  cost.  We  canvassed  the  list  of 
terriers,  —  bull,  Boston,  fox,  Irish,  Skye,  Scotch, 
Airedale,  and  all,  —  and  had  much  to  say  in 
favor  of  each.     One  day  Jane  said  :  — 

"  Dad,  what  do  you  think  of  the  Russian 
wolf-hound  ?  " 

"  Fine  as  silk,"  said  I,  not  seeing  the  trap  ; 
"  the  handsomest  dog  that  runs." 

"  I  think  so,  too.  I  saw  some  beauties  in  the 
Seabright  kennels.  Wouldn't  one  of  them  look 
fine  on  the  lawn  ?  —  lemon  and  white,  and  so  tall 
and  silky.  I  saw  one  down  there,  and  he  wasn't 
a  year  old,  but  his  tail  looked  like  a  great  white 
ostrich  feather,  and  it  touched  the  ground. 
Wouldn't  it  be  grand  to  have  such  a  dog  follow 
me  when  I  rode.    Say,  Dad,  why  not  have  one  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  suppose  a  good  one  would 
cost  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  but  a  good  bit  more  than  a 
terrier,  if  they  sell  dogs  by  size.  May  I  write 
and  find  out  ?  " 

"  There's  no  harm  in  doing  that,"  said  I,  like 
the  jellyfish  that  I  am. 

Jane  wasted  no  time,  but  wrote  at  once,  and 
at  least  seventeen  times  each  day,  until  the  reply 
came,  she  gave  me  such  vivid  accounts  of  the 


278  THE  FAT  OF  THE   LAND 

beauties  of  the  beasts  and  of  the  pleasure  she 
would  have  in  owning  one,  that  I  grew  enthusi- 
astic as  well,  and  quite  made  up  my  mind  that 
she  should  not  be  disappointed.  When  the 
letter  came,  there  was  suppressed  excitement 
until  she  had  read  it,  and  then  excitement  un- 
suppressed. 

"  Dad,  we  can  have  Alexis,  son  of  Katinka  by 
Peter  the  Great,  for  $125 !  See  what  the  letter 
says :  '  Eleven  months  old,  tall  and  strong  in 
quarters,  white,  with  even  lemon  markings, 
better  head  than  Marksman,  and  a  sure  winner 
in  the  best  of  company.'  Isn't  that  great  ? 
And  I  don't  think  1125  is  much,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Not  for  a  horse  or  a  house,  dear,  but  for  a 
dog  —  " 

"  But  you  know,  Dad,  this  isn't  a  common 
dog.  We  mustn't  think  of  it  as  a  dog  ;  it's  a 
barzoi ;  that  isn't  too  much  for  a  barzoi,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Not  for  a  barzoi,  or  a  yacht  either ;  I  guess 
you  will  have  to  have  one  or  the  other." 

"  The  Seabright  man  says  he  has  a  girl  dog 
by  Marksman  out  of  Katrina  that  is  the  very 
picture  of  Alexis,  only  not  so  large,  and  he  will 
sell  both  to  the  same  person  for  #200 ;  they  are 
such  good  friends." 

"  Break  away,  daughter,  do  you  want  a  steam 
launch  with  your  yacht  ?  " 

"  But  just  think,  Dad,  only  175  for  this  one. 
You  save  $50,  don't  you  see  ?  " 

"Dimly,  I  must  confess,  as   through  a  glass 


DOGS  AND  HOUSES  279 

darkly.  But,  dear,  I  may  come  to  see  it  through 
your  eyes  and  in  the  light  of  this  altruistic  dog 
fancier.  I'm  such  a  soft  one  that  it's  a  wonder 
I'm  ever  trusted  with  money." 

The  natural  thing  occurred  once  more  ;  the 
fool  and  his  money  parted  company,  and  two  of 
the  most  beautiful  dogs  came  to  live  on  our 
lawn.  To  live  on  our  lawn,  did  I  say  ?  Not 
much  !  Such  wonderful  creatures  must  have  a 
house  and  grounds  of  their  own  to  retire  to 
when  they  were  weary  of  using  ours,  or  when 
our  presence  bored  them.  The  kennel  and  runs 
were  built  near  the  carriage  barn,  the  runs, 
twenty  by  one  hundred  feet,  enclosed  with  high 
wire  netting.  The  kennel,  eight  by  sixteen,  was 
a  handsome  structure  of  its  kind,  with  two  com- 
partments eight  by  eight  (for  Jane  spoke  for 
the  future),  and  beds,  benches,  and  the  usual 
fixtures  which  well-bred  dogs  are  supposed  to 
require. 

The  house  for  these  dogs  cost  $200,  so  I  was 
obliged  to  add  another  $400  to  the'interest-bearing 
debt.  "If  Jane  keeps  on  in  this  fashion,"  thought 
I,  "  I  shall  have  to  refund  at  a  lower  rate,"  —  and 
she  did  keep  on.  No  sooner  were  the  dogs  safely 
kennelled  than  she  began  to  think  how  fine  it 
would  look  to  be  followed  by  this  wonderful 
pair  along  the  country  roads  and  through  the 
streets  of  Exeter.  To  be  followed,  she  must  have 
a  horse  and  a  saddle  and  a  bridle  and  a  habit ; 
and  later  on  I  found  that  these  things  did  not 


280  THE  FAT  OP  THE  LAND 

grow  on  the  bushes  in  our  neighborhood.  I  drew 
a  line  at  these  things,  however,  and  decided  that 
they  should  not  swell  the  farm  account.  Thus 
I  keep  from  the  reader's  eye  some  of  the  foolish- 
ness of  a  doting  parent  who  has  always  been  as 
warm  wax  in  the  hands  of  his,  nearly  always, 
reasonable  children. 

In  my  stable  were  two  Kentucky-bred  saddlers 
of  much  more  than  average  quality,  for  they  had 
strains  of  warm  blood  in  their  veins.  There  is 
no  question  nowadays  as  to  the  value  of  warm 
blood  in  either  riding  or  driving  horses.  It  gives 
ability,  endurance,  courage,  and  docility  beyond 
expectation.  One-sixteenth  thorough  blood  will, 
in  many  animals,  dominate  the  fifteen-sixteenths 
of  cold  blood,  and  prove  its  virtue  by  unusual 
endurance,  stamina,  and  wearing  capacity. 

The  blue-grass  region  of  Kentucky  has  furnished 
some  of  the  finest  horses  in  the  world,  and  I  have 
owned  several  which  gave  grand  service  until 
they  were  eighteen  or  twenty  years  old.  An 
honest  horseman  at  Paris,  Kentucky,  has  sold 
me  a  dozen  or  more,  and  I  was  willing  to  trust 
his  judgment  for  a  saddler  for  Jane.  My  request 
to  him  was  for  a  light-built  horse ;  weight,  one 
thousand  pounds ;  game  and  spirited,  but  safe 
for  a  woman,  and  one  broken  to  jump.  Every- 
thing else,  including  price,  was  left  to  him. 

In  good  time  Jane's  horse  came,  and  we  were 
well  pleased  with  it,  as  indeed  we  ought  to  have 
been.     My  Paris   man   wrote :    "  I  send  a   bay 


DOGS  AND  HORSES  281 

mare  that  ought  to  fill  the  bill.  She  is  as  quiet 
as  a  kitten,  can  run  like  a  deer,  and  jump  like 
a  kangaroo.  My  sister  has  ridden  her  for  four 
months,  and  she  is  not  speaking  to  me  now.  If 
you  don't  like  her,  send  her  back." 

But  I  did  like  her,  and  I  sent,  instead,  a  con- 
siderable check.  The  mare  was  a  bright  bay 
with  a  white  star  on  her  forehead  and  white 
stockings  on  her  hind  feet,  stood  fifteen  hands 
three  inches,  weighed  980  pounds,  and  looked 
almost  too  light  built ;  but  when  we  noted  the 
deep  chest,  strong  loins,  thin  legs,  and  marvellous 
thighs,  we  were  free  to  admit  that  force  and  en- 
durance were  promised.     Jane  was  delighted. 

"  Dad,  if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred  years  old,  I 
will  never  forget  this  day.  She's  the  sweetest 
horse  that  ever  lived.  I  must  find  a  nice  name 
for  her,  and  to-morrow  we  will  take  our  first 
ride,  you  and  Tom  and  Aloha  and  I  —  yes, 
that's  her  name." 

We  did  ride  the  next  day,  and  many  days 
thereafter ;  and  Aloha  proved  all  and  more  than 
the  Kentuckian  had  promised. 


CHAPTER   XLVI 

THE   SKIM-MILK    TRUST 

The  third  quarter  of  the  year  made  a  better 
showing  than  any  previous  one,  due  chiefly  to 
the  sale  of  hogs  in  August.  The  hens  did  well 
up  to  September,  when  they  began  to  make  new 
clothes  for  themselves  and  could  not  be  bothered 
with  egg-making.  There  were  a  few  more  than 
seven  hundred  in  the  laying  pens,  and  nearly  as 
many  more  rapidly  approaching  the  useful  age. 
The  chief  advantage  in  early  chickens  is  that 
they  will  take  their  places  at  the  nests  in  Octo- 
ber or  November  while  the  older  ones  are  dress- 
making. This  is  important  to  one  who  looks 
for  a  steady  income  from  his  hens,  —  October 
and  November  being  the  hardest  months  to  pro- 
vide for.  A  few  scattered  eggs  in  the  pullet 
runs  showed  that  the  late  February  and  early 
March  chickens  were  beginning  to  have  a  realiz- 
ing sense  of  their  obligations  to  the  world  and 
to  the  Headman,  and  that  they  were  getting  into 
line  to  accept  them.  More  cotton-seed  meal  was 
added  to  the  morning  mash  for  the  old  hens,  and 
the  corn  meal  was  reduced  a  little  and  the  oat- 
meal increased,  as  was  also  the  red  pepper ;  but 

282 


THE   SKIM-MILK  TRUST  283 

do  what  you  will  or  feed  what  you  like,  the  hen 
will  insist  upon  a  vacation  at  this  season  of  the 
year.  You  may  shorten  it,  perhaps,  but  you 
cannot  prevent  it.  The  only  way  to  keep  the 
egg-basket  full  is  to  have  a  lot  of  youngsters 
coming  on  who  will  take  up  the  laying  for  Oc- 
tober and  November. 

We  milked  thirty-seven  cows  during  July, 
August,  and  September,  and  got  more  than  a 
thousand  pounds  of  milk  a  day.  The  butter  sold 
amounted  to  a  trifle  more  than  $375  a  month. 
I  think  this  an  excellent  showing,  considering  the 
fact  that  the  colony  at  Four  Oaks  never  num- 
bered less  than  twenty-four  during  that  time, 
and  often  many  more. 

I  ought  to  say  that  the  calves  had  the  first 
claim  to  the  skim-milk ;  but  as  we  never  kept 
many  for  more  than  a  few  weeks,  this  claim  was 
easily  satisfied.  It  was  like  the  bonds  of  a  cor- 
poration,—  the  first  claim,  but  a  comparatively 
small  one.  The  hens  came  next ;  they  held  pre- 
ferred stock,  and  always  received  a  five-pound, 
semi-daily  dividend  to  each  pen  of  forty.  The 
growing  pigs  came  last ;  they  held  the  common 
stock,  which  was  often  watered  by  the  swill  and 
dish-water  from  both  houses  and  the  buttermilk 
and  butter-washing  from  the  dairy.  I  hold  that 
the  feeding  value  of  skim-milk  is  not  less  than 
forty  cents  a  hundred  pounds,  as  we  use  it  at 
Four  Oaks.  This  seems  a  high  price  when  it 
can  often  be  bought  for  fifteen  cents  a  hundred 


284  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

at  the  factories;  but  I  claim  that  it  is  worth 
more  than  twice  as  much  when  fed  in  perfect 
freshness,  —  certainly  $4  a  day  would  not  buy 
the  skim-milk  from  my  dairy,  for  it  is  worth 
more  than  that  to  me  to  feed.  This  by-product 
is  essential  to  the  smooth  running  of  my  factory. 
Without  it  the  chickens  and  pigs  would  not 
grow  as  fast,  and  it  is  the  best  food  for  laying 
hens,  —  nothing  else  will  give  a  better  egg-yield. 
The  longer  my  experiment  continues,  the  stronger 
is  my  faith  that  the  combination  of  cow,  hog, 
and  hen,  with  fruit  as  a  filler,  are  ideal  for  the 
factory  farm.  With  such  a  plant  well-started 
and  well-managed,  and  with  favorable  surround- 
ings, I  do  not  see  how  a  man  can  prevent  money 
from  flowing  to  him  in  fair  abundance.  The 
record  of  the  fourth  quarter  is  as  follows  :  — 

Butter $1126.00 

Eggs 351.00 

Hogs 1807.00 

Total $3284.00 


CHAPTER   XLVII 
naboth's  vineyard 

One  hazy,  lazy  October  afternoon,  as  my 
friend  Kyrle  and  I  sat  on  the  broad  porch  hit- 
ting our  pipes,  sipping  high  balls,  and  watching 
the  men  and  machines  in  the  corn-fields,  as  all 
toiling  sons  of  the  soil  should  do,  he  said :  — 

"  Doctor,  I  don't  think  you've  made  any  mis- 
take in  this  business." 

"Lots  of  them,  Kyrle;  but  none  too  serious 
to  mend." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so ;  but  I  didn't  mean  it  that 
way.  It  was  no  mistake  when  you  made  the 
change." 

"  You're  right,  old  man.  It's  done  me  a  heap 
of  good,  and  Polly  and  the  youngsters  were 
never  so  happy.  I  only  wish  we  had  done  it 
earlier." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  manage  a  farm  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  you  can ;  you've  managed 
your  business,  haven't  you  ?  You've  grown  rich 
in  a  business  which  is  a  great  sight  more  taxing. 
How  have  you  done  it  ?  " 

"  By  using  my  head,  I  suppose." 
285 


286  THE  FAT  OP  THE  LAND 

"That's  just  it ;  if  a  man  will  use  his  head, 
any  business  will  go,  —  farming  or  making  hats. 
It's  the  gray  matter  that  counts,  and  the  fellow 
that  puts  a  little  more  of  it  into  his  business 
than  his  neighbor  does,  is  the  one  who'll  get  on." 

"  But  farming  is  different ;  so  much  seems  to 
depend  upon  winds  and  rains  and  frosts  and 
accidents  of  all  sorts  that  are  out  of  one's  line." 

"  Not  so  much  as  you  think,  Kyrle.  Of  course 
these  things  cut  in,  but  one  must  discount  them 
in  farming  as  in  other  lines  of  business.  A  total 
crop  failure  is  an  unknown  thing  in  this  region ; 
we  can  count  on  sufficient  rain  for  a  moderate 
crop  every  year,  and  we  know  pretty  well  when 
to  look  for  frosts.  If  a  man  will  do  well  by  his 
land,  the  harvest  will  come  as  sure  as  taxes.  All 
the  farmer  has  to  do  is  to  make  the  best  of  what 
Nature  and  intelligent  cultivation  will  always 
produce.  But  he  must  use  his  gray  matter  in 
other  ways  than  in  just  planning  the  rotation  of 
crops.  When  he  finds  his  raw  staples  selling  for 
a  good  deal  less  than  actual  value,  —  less  than 
he  can  produce  them  for,  he  should  go  into  the 
market  and  buy  against  higher  prices,  for  he 
may  be  absolutely  certain  that  higher  prices  will 
come." 

"  But  how  is  one  to  know  ?  Corn  changes  so 
that  one  can't  form  much  idea  of  its  actual 
value." 

"No  more  than  other  staples.  You  know 
what  fur  is  worth,  because  you've  watched  the 


NABOTH'S  VINEYARD  287 

fur  market  for  twenty  years.  If  it  should  fall 
to  half  its  present  price,  you  would  feel  safe  in 
buying  a  lot.  You  know  that  it  would  make 
just  as  good  hats  as  it  ever  did,  and  that  the 
hats,  in  all  probability,  would  give  you  the  usual 
profit.  It's  the  same  with  corn  and  oats.  I 
know  their  feeding  value ;  and  when  they  fall 
much  below  it,  I  fill  my  granary,  because  for 
my  purpose  they  are  as  valuable  as  if  they  cost 
three  times  as  much.  Last  year  I  bought  ten 
thousand  bushels  of  corn  and  oats  at  a  tremen- 
dously low  price.  I  don't  expect  to  have  such  a 
chance  again ;  but  I  shall  watch  the  market,  and 
if  corn  goes  below  thirty  cents  or  oats  below 
twenty  cents,  I  will  fill  my  granary  to  the  roof. 
I  can  make  them  pay  big  profits  on  such  prices." 

"  Will  you  sell  this  plant,  Williams  ?  " 

"  Not  for  a  song,  you  may  be  sure." 

"  What  has  it  cost  you  to  date  ?  " 

"Don't  know  exactly,  —  between  $80,000  and 
$90,000,  I  reckon ;  the  books  will  show." 

"  Will  you  take  twenty  per  cent  advance  on 
what  the  books  show  ?     I'm  on  the  square." 

"  Now  see  here,  old  man,  what  would  be  the 
good  of  selling  this  factory  for  $100,000  ?  How 
could  I  place  the  money  so  that  it  would  bring 
me  half  the  things  which  this  farm  brings  me 
now  ?  Could  I  live  in  a  better  house,  or  have 
better  food,  better  service,  better  friends,  or  a 
better  way  of  entertaining  them  ?  You  know 
that  $5000   or  $6000  a  year  would  not  supply 


288  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

half  the  luxury  which  we  secure  at  Four  Oaks, 
or  give  half  the  enjoyment  to  my  family  or  my 
friends.  Don't  you  see  that  it  makes  little  dif- 
ference what  we  call  our  expenses  out  here,  so 
iong  as  the  farm  pays  them  and  gives  us  a  sur- 
plus besides  ?  The  investment  is  not  large  for 
one  to  get  a  living  from,  and  it  makes  possible 
a  lot  of  things  which  would  be  counted  rank 
extravagance  in  the  city.     Here's  one  of  them." 

A  cavalcade  was  just  entering  the  home  lot. 
First  came  Jessie  Gordon  on  her  thoroughbred 
mare  Lightfoot,  and  with  her,  Laura  on  my 
Jerry.  Laura's  foot  is  as  dainty  in  the  stirrup 
as  on  the  rugs,  and  she  has  Jerry's  consent  and 
mine  to  put  it  where  she  likes.  Following  them 
were  Jane  and  Bill  Jackson,  with  Jane's  slender 
mare  looking  absolutely  delicate  beside  the  big 
brown  gelding  that  carried  Jackson's  190  pounds 
with  ease.  The  horses  all  looked  as  if  there  had 
been  "  something  doing,"  and  they  were  hurried 
to  the  stables.  The  ladies  laughed  and  screamed 
for  a  season,  as  seems  necessary  for  young  ladies, 
and  then  departed,  leaving  us  in  peace.  Jackson 
filled  his  pipe  before  remarking :  — 

"  I've  been  over  the  ridge  into  the  Dunkard 
settlement,  and  they  have  the  cholera  there  to 
beat  the  band.  Joe  Siegel  lost  sixty  hogs  in  three 
days,  and  there  are  not  ten  well  hogs  in  two  miles. 
What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  That  means  a  hard  « fight  mit  Siegel,'  "  said 
Kyrle, 


NABOTH'S  VINEYARD  289 

"  It  ought  to  mean  a  closer  quarantine  on  this 
side  of  the  ridge,"  said  I,  "  and  you  must  fumi- 
gate your  clothes  before  you  appear  before  your 
swine,  Jackson.  It's  more  likely  to  be  swine 
plague  than  cholera  at  this  time  of  the  year,  but 
it's  just  as  bad ;  one  can  hardly  tell  the  differ- 
ence, and  we  must  look  sharp." 

"  How  does  the  contagion  travel,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  On  horseback,  when  such  chumps  as  you  can 
be  found.  You  probably  have  some  millions  of 
germs  up  your  sleeve  now,  or,  more  likely,  on 
your  back,  and  I  wouldn't  let  you  go  into  my 
hog  pen  for  a  $2000  note.  I'm  so  well  quar- 
antined that  I  don't  much  fear  contagion ;  but 
there's  always  danger  from  infected  dust.  The 
wind  blows  it  about,  and  any  mote  may  be  an 
automobile  for  a  whole  colony  of  bacteria,  which 
may  decide  to  picnic  in  my  piggery.  This  dry 
weather  is  bad  for  us,  and  if  we  get  heavy  winds 
from  off  the  ridge,  I'm  going  to  whistle  for  rain." 

"  I  say,  Williams,  when  you  came  out  here  I 
thought  you  a  tenderfoot,  sure  enough,  who  was 
likely  to  pay  money  for  experience ;  but,  by  the 
jumping  Jews  !  you've  given  us  natives  cards  and 
spades." 

"  I  was  a  tenderfoot  so  far  as  practical  experi- 
ence goes,  but  I  tried  to  use  the  everyday  sense 
which  God  gave  me,  and  I  find  that's  about  all  a 
man  needs  to  run  a  business  like  this." 

"You  run  it  all  right,  for  returns,  and  that's 
what  we  are  after ;  and  I'm  beginning  to  catch 


290  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

on.  I  want  you  to  tell  me,  before  Kyrle  here, 
why  you  gave  me  that  bull  two  years  ago." 

« What's  the  matter  with  the  bull,  Jackson  ? 
Isn't  he  all  right  ?  " 

"  Sure  he's  all  right,  and  as  fine  as  silk ;  but 
why  did  you  give  him  to  me  ?  Why  didn't  you 
keep  him  for  yourself  ?  " 

"  Well,  Bill,  I  thought  you  would  like  him,  and 
we  were  neighbors,  and  —  " 

"You  thought  I  would  save  you  the  trouble 
of  keeping  him,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  that  did  have  some  influence. 
You  see,  this  is  a  factory  farm  from  fence  to 
fence,  except  this  forty  which  Polly  bosses, 
and  the  utilitarian  idea  is  on  top.  Keeping  the 
bull  didn't  exactly  run  with  my  notion  of  econ- 
omy, especially  when  I  could  conveniently  have 
him  kept  so  near,  and  at  the  same  time  be  gen- 
erous to  a  neighbor." 

"  That's  it,  and  it's  taken  me  two  years  to  find 
it  out.  You're  trying  to  follow  that  idea  all 
along  the  line.  You're  dead  right,  and  I'm  going 
to  tag  on,  if  you  don't  mind.  I  was  glad  enough 
for  your  present  at  the  time,  and  I'm  glad  yet ; 
but  I've  learned  my  lesson,  and  you  may  bet  your 
dear  life  that  no  man  will  ever  again  give  me  a  bull." 

"  That's  right,  Jackson.  Now  you  have  struck 
the  key-note ;  stick  to  it,  and  you  will  make 
money  twice  as  fast  as  you  have  done.  Have  a 
mark,  and  keep  your  eye  on  it,  and  your  plough 
will  turn  a  straight  furrow." 


NABOTH'S  VINEYARD  291 

Jackson  sent  for  his  horse,  and  just  before  he 
mounted,  I  said,  "Are  you  thinking  of  selling 
your  farm  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  think  of  it,  but  I've  been  to  school 
lately  and  can  '  do  my  sums  '  better.  No,  I  guess 
I  won't  sell  the  paternal  acres ;  but  who  wants 
to  buy  ?  " 

"  Kyrle,  here,  is  looking  for  a  farm  about  the 
size  of  yours,  and  to  tell  you  the  truth  I  should 
like  him  for  a  neighbor.  It's  dollars  to  dough- 
nuts that  I  could  give  him  a  whole  herd  of  bulls." 

"  Indeed,  you  can't  do  anything  of  the  kind  ! 
I  wouldn't  take  a  gold  dollar  from  you  until  I 
had  it  tested.     I'm  on  to  your  curves." 

"But  seriously,  Jackson,  I  must  have  more  land ; 
my  stock  will  eat  me  out  of  house  and  home  by 
the  time  the  factory  is  running  full  steam.  What 
would  you  say  to  a  proposition  of  $10,000  for  one 
hundred  acres  along  my  north  line  ?  " 

"A  year  ago  I  would  have  jumped  at  it.  Now 
I  say  '  nit.'  I  need  it  all,  Doctor  ;•  I  told  you  I 
was  going  to  tag  on.  But  what's  the  matter 
with  the  old  lady's  quarter  across  your  south 
road  ?  " 

"  Nothing's  the  matter  with  the  land,  only  she 
won't  sell  it  at  any  price." 

"  I  know  ;  but  that  drunken  brute  of  a  son  will 
sell  as  soon  as  she's  under  the  sod,  and  they  say 
the  poor  old  girl  is  on  her  last  legs, —  down  with 
distemper  or  some  other  beastly  disease.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do.     I'll  sound  the  renegade  son 


292  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  see  how  he  measures.  Some  one  will  get  it 
before  long,  and  it  might  as  well  be  you." 

Jackson  galloped  off,  and  Kyrle  and  I  sat  on 
the  porch  and  divided  the  widow's  160-acre  mite. 
It  was  a  good  strip  of  land,  lying  a  fair  mile  on 
the  south  road  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  deep. 
The  buildings  were  of  no  value,  the  fences  were 
ragged  to  a  degree,  but  I  coveted  the  land.  It 
was  the  vineyard  of  Naboth  to  me,  and  I  planned 
its  future  with  my  friend  and  accessory  sitting 
by.  I  destroyed  the  estimable  old  lady's  house 
and  barns,  ran  my  ploughshares  through  her  gar- 
den and  flower  beds,  and  turned  the  home  site 
into  one  great  field  of  lusty  corn,  without  so  much 
as  saying  by  your  leave.  Thus  does  the  greed 
of  land  grow  upon  one.  But  in  truth,  I  saw  that 
I  must  have  more  land.  My  factory  would  re- 
quire more  than  ten  thousand  bushels  of  grain, 
with  forage  and  green  foods  in  proportion,  to 
meet  its  full  capacity,  and  I  could  not  hope  to 
get  so  much  from  the  land  then  under  cultiva- 
tion. Again,  in  a  few  years  —  a  very  few  —  the 
fifty  acres  of  orchard  would  be  no  longer  avail- 
able for  crops,  and  this  would  still  further  reduce 
my  tillable  land.  With  the  orchards  out  of  use, 
I  should  have  but  124  acres  for  all  crops  other 
than  hay.  If  I  could  add  this  coveted  160,  it 
would  give  me  250  acres  of  excellent  land  for 
intensive  farming. 

"  I  should  like  it  on  this  side  of  the  road,"  said 
I,  «  but  I  suppose  that  will  have  to  do." 


NABOTH'S  VINEYARD  293 

"  What  will  have  to  do  ?  "  asked  Kyrle. 

"  The  160  acres  over  there." 

"  You  unconscionable  wretch !  Have  you 
evicted  the  poor  widow,  and  she  on  her  death- 
bed ?  For  stiffening  the  neck  and  hardening  the 
heart,  commend  me  to  the  close-to-nature  life  of 
the  farmer.  I  wouldn't  own  a  farm  for  worlds. 
It  risks  one's  immortality.  Give  me  the  wicked 
city  for  pasturage  —  and  a  friend  who  will  run 
a  farm,  at  his  own  risk,  and  give  me  the  benefit 
of  it." 


CHAPTER   XL VIII 

MAIDS   AND    MALLARDS 

We  have  so  rarely  entered  our  house  with 
the  reader  that  he  knows  little  of  its  domestic 
machinery.  So  much  depends  upon  this  machin- 
ery that  one  must  always  take  it  into  considera- 
tion when  reckoning  the  pleasures  and  even  the 
comforts  of  life  anywhere,  and  this  is  especially 
true  in  the  country.  We  have  such  a  lot  of 
people  about  that  our  servants  cannot  sing  the 
song  of  lonesomeness  that  makes  dolor  for  most 
suburbanites.  They  are  "  churched  "  as  often  as 
they  wish,  and  we  pay  city  wages ;  but  still  it  is 
not  all  clear  sailing  in  this  quarter  of  Polly's 
realm.  I  fancy  that  we  get  on  better  than  some 
of  our  neighbors ;  but  we  do  not  brag,  and  I 
usually  feel  that  I  am  smoking  my  pipe  in  a 
powder  magazine.  There  is  something  essentially 
wrong  in  the  working-girl  world,  and  I  am  glad 
that  I  was  not  born  to  set  it  right.  We  cannot 
down  the  spirit  of  unrest  and  improvidence  that 
holds  possession  of  cooks  and  waitresses,  and  we 
needs  must  suffer  it  with  such  patience  as  we 
can. 

294 


MAIDS  AND  MALLARDS  295 

Two  of  our  house  servants  were  more  or  less 
permanent ;  that  is,  they  had  been  with  us  since 
we  opened  the  house,  and  were  as  content  as 
restless  spirits  can  be.  These  were  the  house- 
keeper and  the  cook,  —  the  hub  of  the  house. 
The  former  is  a  Norwegian,  tall,  angular,  and 
capable,  with  a  knot  of  yellow  hair  at  the  back 
of  her  head,  —  ostensibly  for  sticking  lead  pencils 
into,  —  and  a  disposition  to  keep  things  snug  and 
clean.  Her  duties  include  the  general  supervi- 
sion of  both  houses  and  the  special  charge  of 
store-rooms,  food  cellars,  and  table  supplies  of  all 
sorts.  She  is  efficient,  she  whistles  while  she 
works,  and  I  see  but  little  of  her.  I  suspect  that 
Polly  knows  her  well. 

The  cook,  Mary,  is  small,  Irish,  gray,  with  the 
temper  of  a  pepper-pod  and  the  voice  of  a  guinea- 
hen  suffering  from  bronchitis,  but  she  can  cook 
like  an  angel.  She  is  an  artist,  and  I  feel  as  if 
the  seven-dollar-a-week  stipend  were  but  a  "  tip  " 
to  her,  and  that  sometime  she  will  present  me 
with  a  bill  for  her  services.  My  safeguard,  and 
one  that  I  cherish,  is  an  angry  word  from  her 
to  the  housekeeper.  She  jeeringly  asserted  that 
she,  the  cook,  got  $2  a  week  more  than  she, 
the  housekeeper,  did.  As  every  one  knows  that 
the  housekeeper  has  $5  a  week,  I  am  holding 
this  evidence  against  the  time  when  Mary  asks 
for  a  lump  sum  adequate  to  her  deserts.  The 
number  of  things  which  Mary  can  make  out  of 
everj^thing  and  out  of  nothing  is  wonderful ;  and 


296  THE  EAT  OF  THE  LAND 

I  am  fully  persuaded  that  all  the  moneys  paid  to 
a  really  good  cook  are  moneys  put  into  the  bank. 
I  often  make  trips  to  the  kitchen  to  tell  Mary 
that  "  the  dinner  was  great,"  or  that  "  Mrs. 
Kyrle  wants  the  receipt  for  that  pudding,"  or 
that  "  my  friend  Kyrle  asks  if  he  may  see  you 
make  a  salad  dressing  ;  "  but  "  don't  do  it,  Mary  ; 
let  the  secret  die  with  you."  The  cook  cackles, 
like  the  guinea-hen  that  she  is,  but  the  dishes  are 
none  the  worse  for  the  commendation. 

The  laundress  is  just  a  washerwoman,  so  far 
as  I  know.  She  undoubtedly  changes  with  the 
seasons,  but  I  do  not  see  her,  though  the  clothes 
are  always  bleaching  on  the  grass  at  the  back  of 
the  house. 

The  maids  are  as  changeable  as  old-fashioned 
silk.  There  are  always  two  of  them  ;  but  which 
two,  is  beyond  me.  I  tell  Polly  that  Four  Oaks 
is  a  sprocket-wheel  for  maids,  with  two  links  of 
an  endless  chain  always  on  top.  It  makes  but 
little  difference  which  links  are  up,  so  the  work 
goes  smoothly.  Polly  thinks  the  maids  come 
to  Four  Oaks  just  as  less  independent  folk  go  to 
the  mountains  or  the  shore,  for  a  vacation,  or 
to  be  able  to  say  to  the  policeman,  "  I've  been  to 
the  country."  Their  system  is  past  finding  out ; 
but  no  matter  what  it  is,  we  get  our  dishes 
washed  and  our  beds  made  without  serious  in- 
convenience. The  wage  account  in  the  house 
amounts  to  just  $25  a  week.  My  pet  system  of 
an  increasing  wage  for  protracted  service  doesn't 


MAIDS  AND  MALLARDS  297 

appeal  to  these  birds  of  passage,  who  alight  long 
enough  to  fill  their  crops  with  our  wild  rice  and 
celery,  and  then  take  wing  for  other  feeding- 
grounds.  This  kind  of  life  seems  fitted  for  mal- 
lards and  maids,  and  I  have  no  quarrel  with 
either.  From  my  view,  there  are  happier  in- 
stincts than  those  which  impel  migration ;  but 
remembering  that  personal  views  are  best  applied 
to  personal  use,  I  wish  both  maids  and  mallards 
bon  voyage. 


CHAPTER   XLIX 

THE   SUNKEN    GARDEN 

Extending  directly  west  from  the  porch  for 
150  feet  is  an  open  pergola,  of  simple  construc- 
tion, but  fast  gaining  beauty  from  the  rapid 
growth  of  climbers  which  Polly  and  Johnson 
have  planted.  It  is  floored  with  brick  for  the 
protection  of  dainty  feet,  and  near  the  western 
end  cluster  rustic  benches,  chairs,  tables,  and 
such  things  as  women  and  gardeners  love.  Fac- 
ing the  west  50  feet  of  this  pergola  is  Polly's 
sunken  flower  garden,  which  is  her  special 
pride.  It  extends  south  100  feet,  and  is  built  in 
the  side  of  the  hill  so  that  its  eastern  wall  just 
shows  a  coping  above  the  close-cropped  lawn. 
Of  course  the  western  wall  is  much  higher,  as  the 
lawn  slopes  sharply  ;  but  it  was  filled  in  so  as  to 
make  this  wall-enclosed  garden  quite  level.  The 
walls  which  rise  above  the  flower  beds  4|  feet, 
are  beginning  to  look  decorated,  thanks  to  creep- 
ing vines  and  other  things  which  a  cunning 
gardener  and  Polly  know.  Flowers  of  all  sorts 
—  annuals,  biennials  (triennials,  perhaps),  and 
perennials  —  cover  the  beds,  which  are  laid  out 
in  strange,  irregular  fashion,  far  indeed  from  my 

298 


THE   SUNKEN   GARDEN  299 

rectangular  style.  These  beds  please  the  eye  of 
the  mistress,  and  of  her  friends,  too,  if  they  are 
candid  in  their  remarks,  which  I  doubt. 

While  excavating  the  garden  we  found  a 
granite  boulder  shaped  somewhat  like  an  egg 
and  nearly  five  feet  long.  It  was  a  big  thing, 
and  not  very  shapely ;  but  it  came  from  the  soil, 
and  Polly  wanted  it  for  the  base  of  her  sun-dial. 
We  placed  it,  big  end  down,  in  the  mathematical 
centre  of  the  garden  (I  insisted  on  that),  and  sunk 
it  into  the  ground  to  make  it  solid ;  then  a  stone 
mason  fashioned  a  flat  space  on  the  top  to  ac- 
commodate an  old  brass  dial  that  Polly  had  found 
in  Boston.  The  dial  is  not  half  bad.  From  the 
heavy,  octagonal  brass  base  rises  a  slender  quill 
to  cast  its  shadow  on  the  figured  circle,  while 
around  this  circle  old  English  characters  ask, 
"  Am  I  not  wise,  who  note  only  bright  hours  ?  " 
A  plat  of  sod  surrounds  the  dial,  and  Polly  goes 
to  it  at  least  once  a  day  to  set  her  watch  by  the 
shadow  of  the  quill,  though  I  have  told  her  a 
hundred  times  that  it  is  seventeen  minutes  off 
standard  time.  I  am  convinced  that  this  estima- 
ble lady  wilfully  ignores  conventional  time  and 
marks  her  cycles  by  such  divisions  as  "  catalogue 
time,"  "  seed-buying  time,"  "  planting  time," 
«  sprouting  time,"  "  spraying  time,"  "  flowering 
time,"  "  seed-gathering  time,"  "  mulching  time," 
and  "dreary  time,"  until  the  catalogues  come 
again.  I  know  it  seemed  no  time  at  all  until 
she  had  let  me  in  to  the  tune  of  $687  for  the 


300  THE  FAT  OF   THE  LAND 

pergola,  walls,  and  garden.  She  bought  the  sun- 
dial with  her  own  money,  I  am  thankful  to  say, 
and  it  doesn't  enter  into  this  account.  I  think 
it  must  have  cost  a  pretty  penny,  for  she  had  a 
hat  "  made  over  "  that  spring. 

Polly  has  planted  the  lawn  with  a  lot  of  shade 
trees  and  shrubs,  and  has  added  some  clumps  of 
fruit  trees.  Few  trees  have  been  planted  near 
the  house ;  the  four  fine  oaks,  from  which  we 
take  our  name,  stand  without  rivals  and  give 
ample  shade.  The  great  black  oak  near  the  east 
end  of  the  porch  is  a  tower  of  strength  and 
beauty,  which  is  "  seen  and  known  of  all  men," 
while  the  three  white  oaks  farther  to  the  west 
form  a  clump  which  casts  a  grateful  shade  when 
the  sun  begins  to  decline.  The  seven  acres  of 
forest  to  the  east  is  left  severely  alone,  save 
where  the  carriage  drive  winds  through  it,  and 
Polly  watches  so  closely  that  the  foot  of  the 
Philistine  rarely  crushes  her  wild  flowers.  Its 
sacredness  recalls  the  schoolgirl's  definition  of  a 
virgin  forest :  "  One  in  which  the  hand  of  man 
has  never  dared  to  put  his  foot  into  it."  Polly 
wanders  in  this  grove  for  hours;  but  then  she 
knows  where  and  how  things  grow,  and  her 
footsteps  are  followed  by  flowers.  If  by  chance 
she  brushes  one  down,  it  rises  at  once,  shakes  off 
the  dust,  and  says,  "  I  ought  to  have  known 
better  than  to  wander  so  far  from  home." 

She  keeps  a  wise  eye  on  the  vegetable  garden, 
too,  and  has  stores  of  knowledge  as  to  seed-time 


THE   SUNKEN  GARDEN  301 

and  harvest  and  the  correct  succession  of  garden 
crops.  She  and  Johnson  planned  a  greenhouse, 
which  Nelson  built,  for  flowers  and  green  stuff 
through  the  winter,  she  said ;  but  I  think  it  is 
chiefly  a  place  where  she  can  play  in  the  dirt 
when  the  weather  is  bad.  Anyhow,  that  glass 
house  cost  the  farm  $442,  and  the  interest  and 
taxes  are  going  on  yet.  I  as  well  as  Polly  had 
to  do  some  building  that  autumn.  Three  more 
chicken-houses  were  built,  making  five  in  all. 
Each  consists  in  ten  compartments  twenty  feet 
wide,  of  which  each  is  intended  to  house  forty 
hens.  When  these  houses  were  completed,  I  had 
room  for  forty  pens  of  forty  each,  which  was 
my  limit  for  laying  hens.  In  addition  was  one 
house  of  ten  pens  for  half-grown  chickens  and 
fattening  fowls.  It  would  take  the  hatch  of 
another  year  to  fill  my  pens,  but  one  must  pro- 
vide for  the  future.  These  three  houses  cost,  in 
round  numbers,  $2100,  —  five  times  as  much  as 
Polly's  glass  house,  —  but  I  was  not  going  to 
play  in  them. 

I  also  built  a  cow-house  on  the  same  plan  as 
the  first  one,  but  about  half  the  size.  This  was 
for  the  dry  cows  and  the  heifers.  It  cost  $2230, 
and  gave  me  stable  room  enough  for  the  waiting 
stock,  so  that  I  could  count  on  forty  milch  cows 
all  the  time,  when  my  herd  was  once  balanced. 
Forty  cows  giving  milk,  six  hundred  swine  of  all 
ages,  putting  on  fat  or  doing  whatever  other 
duty  came  to  hand,  fifteen  or  sixteen  hundred 


302  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

hens  laying  eggs  when  not  otherwise  engaged, 
three  thousand  apple  trees  striving  with  all 
their  might  to  get  large  enough  to  bear  fruit,  — 
these  made  up  my  ideal  of  a  factory  farm ; 
and  it  looked  as  if  one  year  more  would  see  it 
complete. 

No  rain  fell  in  October,  and  my  brook  became 
such  a  little  brook  that  I  dared  to  correct  its 
ways.  We  spent  a  week  with  teams,  ploughs, 
and  scrapers,  cutting  the  fringe  and  frills  away 
from  it,  and  reducing  it  to  severe  simplicity.  It 
is  strange,  but  true,  that  this  reversion  to  sim- 
plicity robbed  it  of  its  shy  ways  and  rustic 
beauty,  and  left  it  boldly  staring  with  open  eyes 
and  gaping  with  wide-stretched  mouth  at  the 
men  who  turned  from  it.  We  put  in  about  two 
thousand  feet  of  tile  drainage  on  both  sides  of 
what  Polly  called  "  that  ditch,"  and  this  com- 
pleted the  improvements  on  the  low  lands.  The 
land,  indeed,  was  not  too  low  to  bear  good  crops, 
but  it  was  lightened  by  under  drainage  and 
yielded  more  each  after  year. 

The  tiles  cost  me  five  cents  per  foot,  or  $100 
for  the  whole.  The  work  was  done  by  my  own 
men. 


CHAPTER   L 

THE    HEADMAN    GENERALIZES 

Jackson's  prophecy  came  true.  The  old  lady 
died,  and  before  the  ground  was  fairly  settled 
around  her  the  improvident  son  accepted  a  cash 
offer  of  $75  per  acre  for  his  homestead,  and  the 
farm  was  added  to  mine.  This  was  in  Novem- 
ber. I  at  once  spent  1640  for  2J  miles  of  fenc- 
ing to  enclose  it  in  one  field,  charging  the  farm 
account  with  $12,640  for  the  land  and  fence. 

This  transaction  was  a  bargain,  from  my  point 
of  view ;  and  it  was  a  good  sale,  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  other  man,  for  he  put  $12,000  away 
at  five  per  cent  interest,  and  felt  that  he  need 
never  do  a  stroke  of  work  again.  A  lazy  man  is 
easily  satisfied. 

In  December  I  sold  283  hogs.  It  was  a  choice 
lot,  as  much  alike  as  peas  in  a  pod,  and  gave  an 
average  weight  of  276  pounds ;  but  the  market 
was  exceedingly  low.  I  received  the  highest 
quotation  for  the  month,  $3.60  per  hundred,  and 
the  lot  netted  $2702. 

It  seems  hard  luck  to  be  obliged  to  sell  fine 
swine  at  such  a  price,  and  a  good  many  farmers 
would  hold  their  stock  in  the  hope  of   a  rise; 


304  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

but  I  do  not  think  this  prudent.  When  a  pig  is 
250  days  old,  if  he  has  been  pushed,  he  has 
reached  his  greatest  profit-growth  ;  and  he  should 
be  sold,  even  though  the  market  be  low.  If  one 
could  be  certain  that  within  a  reasonable  time, 
say  thirty  days,  there  would  be  a  marked  advance, 
it  might  do  to  hold ;  but  no  one  can  be  sure  of 
this,  and  it  doesn't  usually  pay  to  wait.  Market 
the  product  when  at  its  best,  is  the  rule  at  Four 
Oaks.  The  young  hog  is  undoubtedly  at  his  best 
from  eight  to  nine  months  old.  He  has  made 
a  maximum  growth  on  minimum  feed,  and  from 
that  time  on  he  will  eat  more  and  give  smaller 
proportionate  returns.  There  is  danger,  too,  that 
he  will  grow  stale ;  for  he  has  been  subjected  to 
a  forcing  system  which  contemplated  a  definite 
time  limit  and  which  cannot  extend  much  be- 
yond that  limit  without  risks.  Force  your  swine 
not  longer  than  nine  months  and  sell  for  what  you 
can  get,  and  you  will  make  more  money  in  the 
long  run  than  by  trying  to  catch  a  high  market. 
I  sold  in  December  something  more  than  four 
hundred  cockerels,  which  brought  $215.  The 
apples  from  the  old  trees  were  good  that  year, 
but  not  so  abundant  as  the  year  before,  and  they 
brought  $337,  —  $2.25  per  tree.  The  hens  laid 
few  eggs  in  October  and  November,  though  they 
resumed  work  in  December ;  but  the  pullets  did 
themselves  proud.  Sam  said  he  gathered  from 
fourteen  to  twenty  eggs  a  day  from  each  pen  of 
forty,  which  is  better  than  forty  per  cent.     We 


THE  HEADMAN  GENERALIZES  305 

sold  nearly  eighteen  hundred  dozen  eggs  during 
this  quarter,  for  $553.  The  butter  account 
showed  nearly  twenty-eight  hundred  pounds 
sold,  which  brought  $894,  and  the  sale  of  eleven 
calves  brought  $130.  These  sales  closed  the 
credit  side  of  our  ledger  for  the  year. 


Apples 

.    $337.00 

Calves 

.      130.00 

Cockerels . 

.      215.00 

1785  doz.  eggs  . 

.      553.00 

2790  lb.  butter 

.        .        .        .      894.00 

283  hogs   . 

.     2702.00 

Total 

.  $4831.00 

In  making  up  the  expense  account  of  that 
year  and  the  previous  one,  I  found  that  I  should 
be  able  in  future  to  say  with  a  good  deal  of 
exactness  what  the  gross  amount  would  be, 
without  much  figuring.  The  interest  account 
would  steadily  decrease,  I  hoped,  while  the  wage 
account  would  increase  as  steadily  until  it  ap- 
proached $5500 ;  that  year  it  was  $4662.  Each 
man  who  had  been  on  the  farm  more  than  six 
months  received  $18  more  that  year  than  he  did 
the  year  before,  and  this  increase  would  continue 
until  the  maximum  wage  of  $40  a  month  was 
reached ;  but  while  some  would  stay  long  enough 
to  earn  the  maximum,  others  would  drop  out, 
and  new  men  would  begin  work  at  $20  a  month. 
I  felt  safe,  therefore,  in  fixing  $5500  as  the  maxi- 
mum wage  limit  of  any  year.  Time  has  proven 
the  correctness  of  this  estimate,  for  $5372  is  the 


306  THE  FAT  OF  THE   LAND 

most  I  have  paid  for  wages  during  the  seven 
years  since  this  experiment  was  inaugurated. 

The  food  purchased  for  cows,  hogs,  and  hens 
may  also  be  definitely  estimated.  It  costs  about 
$30  a  year  for  each  cow,  $1  for  each  hog,  and  thirty 
cents  for  each  hen.  Everything  else  comes  from 
the  land,  and  is  covered  by  such  fixed  charges 
as  interest,  wages,  taxes,  insurance,  repairs,  and 
replenishments.  The  food  for  the  colony  at 
Four  Oaks,  usually  bought  at  wholesale,  doesn't 
cost  more  than  $5  a  month  per  capita.  This 
seems  small  to  a  man  who  is  in  the  habit  of 
paying  cash  for  everything  that  enters  his  doors ; 
but  it  amply  provides  for  comforts  and  even  for 
luxuries,  not  only  for  the  household,  but  also  for 
the  stranger  within  the  gates.  In  the  city,  where 
water  and  ice  cost  money  and  the  daily  purchase 
of  food  is  taxed  by  three  or  four  middlemen,  one 
cannot  realize  the  factory  farmer's  independence 
of  tradesmen.  I  do  not  mean  that  this  sum  will 
furnish  terrapin  and  champagne,  but  I  do  not 
understand  that  terrapin  and  champagne  are  nec- 
essary to  comfort,  health,  or  happiness. 

Let  us  look  for  a  moment  at  some  of  the 
things  which  the  factory  farmer  does  not  buy, 
and  perhaps  we  shall  see  that  a  comfortable 
existence  need  not  demand  much  more.  His 
cows  give  him  milk,  cream,  butter,  and  veal ;  his 
swine  give  roast  pig,  fresh  pork,  salt  pork,  ham, 
bacon,  sausages,  and  lard  ;  his  hens  give  eggs  and 
poultry ;  his  fields  yield  hulled  corn,  samp,  and 


THE  HEADMAN   GENERALIZES  307 

corn  meal ;  his  orchards  give  apples,  pears,  peaches, 
quinces,  plums,  and  cherries ;  his  bushes  give 
currants,  gooseberries,  strawberries,  raspberries, 
blackberries  ;  his  vines  give  grapes ;  his  forests 
give  hickory  nuts,  butternuts,  and  hazel  nuts ; 
and,  best  of  all,  his  garden  gives  more  than 
twenty  varieties  of  toothsome  and  wholesome 
vegetables  in  profusion.  The  whole  fruit  and 
vegetable  product  of  the  temperate  zone  is  at  his 
door,  and  he  has  but  to  put  forth  his  hand  and 
take  it.  The  skilled  housewife  makes  wonderful 
provision  against  winter  from  the  opulence  of 
summer,  and  her  storehouse  is  crowded  with 
innumerable  glass  cells  rich  in  the  spoils  of 
orchard  and  garden.  There  is  scant  use  for  the 
grocer  and  the  butcher  under  such  conditions. 
I  am  so  well  convinced  that  my  estimate  of  $5 
a  month  is  liberal  that  I  have  taxed  the  account 
with  all  the  salt  used  on  the  farm. 


CHAPTER   LI 

THE   GRAND-GIRLS 

The  click  of  Jane's  hammer  began  to  be  heard 
in  November,  and  hardly  a  day  passed  without 
some  music  from  this  "Forge  in  the  Forest." 
Sir  Tom  made  a  permanent  station  of  the  work- 
shop, where  he  spent  hours  in  a  comfortable 
chair,  drawing  nourishment  from  the  head  of 
his  cane  and  pleasure  from  watching  the  girl 
at  the  anvil.  I  suspect  that  he  planted  himself 
in  the  corner  of  the  forge  to  safeguard  Jane ;  for 
he  had  an  abiding  fear  that  she  would  take  fire, 
and  he  wished  to  be  near  at  hand  to  put  her 
out.  He  procured  a  small  Babcock  extinguisher 
and  a  half-dozen  hand-grenades,  and  with  these 
instruments  he  constituted  himself  a  very  effi- 
cient volunteer  fire  department.  He  made  her 
promise,  also,  that  she  would  have  definite  hours 
for  heavy  work,  that  he  might  be  on  watch ; 
and  so  fond  was  she  of  his  company,  or  rather 
of  his  presence,  for  he  talked  but  little,  that  sh 
kept  close  to  the  schedule. 

Laura  had  a  favorite  corner  in  the  forge,  where 
she  often  turned  a  hem  or  a  couplet.     She  was 

308 


THE  GRAND-GIRLS  309 

equally  dexterous  at  either ;  and  Sir  Tom  watched 
her,  too,  with  an  admiring  eye.  I  once  heard 
him  say :  — 

"  Milady  Laura,  it  is  the  regret  of  me  life  that 
I  came  into  the  world  a  generation  too  soon." 

Laura  sometimes  went  away  —  she  called  it 
"  going  home,"  but  we  scoffed  the  term  —  and 
the  doldrums  blew  until  she  returned.  Sir  Tom 
dined  with  us  nearly  every  evening  through  the 
fall  and  early  winter;  and  when  he,  and  Kate 
and  Tom  and  the  grand-girls,  and  the  Kyrles, 
and  Laura  were  at  Four  Oaks,  there  was  little 
to  be  desired.  The  grand-girls  were  nearly  five 
and  seven  now,  and  they  were  a  great  help  to 
the  Headman.  My  terrier  was  no  closer  to  my 
heels  from  morning  to  night  than  were  these 
youngsters.  They  took  to  country  life  like  the 
young  animals  they  were,  and  made  friends  with 
all,  from  Thompson  down.  They  must  needs 
watch  the  sheep  as  they  walked  their  endless 
way  on  the  treadmill  night  and  morning ;  they 
thrust  their  hands  into  hundreds  of  nests  and 
placed  the  spoils  in  Sam's  big  baskets ;  they 
watched  the  calves  at  their  patent  feeders,  which 
deceived  the  calves,  but  not  the  girls ;  they 
climbed  into  the  grain  bins  and  tobogganed  on 
the  corn ;  they  haunted  the  cow-barn  at  milking 
time  and  wondered  much ;  but  the  chiefest  of 
their  delights  was  the  beautiful  white  pig  which 
Anderson  gave  them.  A  little  movable  pen  was 
provided  for  this  favorite,  and  the  youngsters  fed 


310  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

it  several  times  a  day  with  warm  milk  from  a 
nursing-bottle,  like  any  other  motherless  child. 
The  pig  loved  its  foster-mothers,  and  squealed 
for  them  most  of  the  time  when  it  was  not  eating 
or  sleeping ;  fortunately,  a  pig  can  do  much  of 
both.  It  grew  playful  and  intelligent,  and  took 
on  strange  little  human  ways  which  made  one 
wonder  if  Darwin  were  right  in  his  conclusion 
that  we  are  all  ascended  from  the  ape.  I  have 
seen  features  and  traits  of  character  so  distinctly 
piggish  as  to  rouse  my  suspicions  that  the  genea- 
logical line  is  not  free  from  a  cross  of  sus  scrofa. 
The  pig  grew  in  stature  and  in  wisdom,  but  not 
in  grace,  from  day  to  day,  until  it  threatened  to 
dominate  the  place.  However,  it  was  lost  during 
the  absence  of  its  friends,  —  to  be  replaced  by  a 
younger  one  at  the  next  visit. 

"  Do  your  pigs  get  lost  when  you  are  away  ?  " 
asked  No.  1. 

«  Not  often,  dear." 

"  It's  only  pet  pigs  that  runds  away,"  said 
No.  2,  "  and  I  don't  care,  for  it  rooted  me." 

The  pet  pig  is  still  a  favorite  with  the  grand- 
girls,  but  it  always  runs  away  in  the  fall. 

Kate  loved  to  come  to  Four  Oaks,  and  she 
spent  so  much  time  there  that  she  often  said  :  — 

"  We  have  no  right  to  that  $1200 ;  we  spend 
four  times  as  much  time  here  as  you  all  do  in 
town." 

"That's  all  right  daughter,  but  I  wish  you 
would  spend  twice  as  much  time  here  as  you  do, 


THE  GRAND-GIRLS  311 

and  I  also  wish  that  the  $1200  were  twice  as 
much  as  it  is." 

Time  was  running  so  smoothly  with  us  that 
we  "  knocked  on  wood  "  each  morning  for  fear 
our  luck  would  break. 

The  cottage  which  had  once  served  as  a  tem- 
porary granary,  and  which  had  been  moved  to 
the  building  line  two  years  before,  was  now 
turned  into  an  overflow  house  against  the  time 
when  Jack  should  come  home  for  the  winter  vaca- 
tion. Polly  had  decided  to  have  "  just  as  many 
as  we  can  hold,  and  some  more,"  and  as  the 
heaviest  duties  fell  upon  her,  the  rest  of  us  could 
hardly  find  fault.  The  partitions  were  torn  out 
of  the  cottage,  and  it  was  opened  up  into  one  room, 
except  for  the  kitchen,  which  was  turned  into  a 
bath-room.  Six  single  iron  beds  were  put  up, 
and  the  place  was  made  comfortable  by  an  old- 
fashioned,  air-tight,  sheet-iron  stove  with  a  great 
hole  in  the  top  through  which  big  chunks  and 
knots  of  wood  were  fed.  This  stove  would  keep 
fire  all  night,  and,  while  not  up  to  latter-day 
demands,  it  was  quite  satisfactory  to  the  warm- 
blooded boys  who  used  it.  The  expense  of  over- 
hauling the  cottage  was  $214.  Tom,  Kate,  and 
the  grand-girls  were  to  be  with  us,  of  course,  and 
so  were  the  Kyrles,  Sir  Tom,  Jessie  Gordon,  Flor- 
ence, Madeline,  and  Alice  Chase.  Jack  was  to 
bring  Jarvis  and  two  other  men  besides  Frank 
and  Phil  of  last  year's  party. 

The  six  boys  were  bestowed  in   the  cottage, 


312  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

where  they  made  merry  without  seriously  in- 
terrupting sleep  in  the  main  house.  The  others 
found  comfortable  quarters  under  our  roof,  ex- 
cept Sir  Tom,  who  would  go  home  some  time  in 
the  night,  to  return  before  lunch  the  next  day. 

With  such  a  houseful  of  people,  the  cook  was 
worked  to  the  bone  ;  but  she  gloried  in  it,  and 
cackled  harder  than  ever.  I  believe  she  gave 
warning  twice  during  those  ten  days  ;  but  Polly 
has  a  way  with  her  which  Mary  cannot  resist. 
I  do  not  think  we  could  have  driven  that  cook 
out  of  the  house  with  a  club  when  there  was 
such  an  opportunity  for  her  to  distinguish  her- 
self.   Her  warnings  were  simply  matters  of  habit. 

The  holidays  were  filled  with  such  things  as 
a  congenial  country  house-party  can  furnish  — 
the  wholesomest,  jolliest  things  in  the  world ; 
and  the  end,  when  it  came,  was  regretted  by 
all.  I  grew  to  feel  a  little  bit  jealous  of  Jarvis's 
attentions  to  Jane,  for  they  looked  serious,  and 
she  was  not  made  unhappy  by  them.  Jarvis 
was  all  that  was  honest  and  manly,  but  I  could 
not  think  of  giving  up  Jane,  even  to  the  best  of 
fellows.  I  wanted  her  for  my  old  age.  I  sus- 
pect that  a  loving  father  can  dig  deeper  into  the 
mud  of  selfishness  than  any  other  man,  and  yet 
feel  all  the  time  that  he  is  doing  God  service. 
It  is  in  accord  with  nature  that  a  daughter 
should  take  the  bit  in  her  teeth  and  bolt  away  from 
this  restraining  selfishness,  but  the  man  who  is  left 
by  the  roadside  cannot  always  see  it  in  that  light. 


CHAPTER   LII 

THE    THIRD    RECKONING 

On  the  afternoon  of  December  31  I  called  a 
meeting  of  the  committee  of  ways  and  means, 
and  Polly  and  I  locked  ourselves  in  my  office. 
It  was  then  two  and  a  half  years  since  we  com- 
menced the  experiment  of  building  a  factory 
farm,  which  was  to  supply  us  with  comforts, 
luxuries,  and  pleasures  of  life,  and  yet  be  self- 
supporting:  a  continuous  experiment  in  eco- 
nomics. 

The  building  of  the  factory  was  practically 
completed,  though  not  all  of  its  machinery  had 
yet  been  installed.  We  had  spent  our  money 
freely,  —  too  freely,  perhaps ;  and  we  were  now 
ready  to  watch  the  returns.     Polly  said :  — 

"  There  are  some  things  we  are  sure  of :  we 
like  the  country,  and  it  likes  us.  I  have  spent 
the  happiest  year  of  my  life  here.  We've  enter- 
tained more  friends  than  ever  before,  and  they've 
been  better  entertained,  so  that  we  are  all  right 
from  the  social  standpoint.  You  are  stronger 
and  better  than  ever  before,  and  so  am  I.  Credit 
the  farm  with  these  things,  Mr.  Headman,  and 
you'll  find  that  it  doesn't  owe  us  such  an  awful 
amount  after  all." 

313 


314  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

"  Are  these  things  worth  $100,000  ?  " 

"  Now,  John,  you  don't  mean  that  you've  spent 
$100,000!  What  in  the  world  have  you  done 
with  it?     Just  pigs  and  cows  and  chickens  —  " 

"And  greenhouses  and  sunken  gardens  and 
pergolas  and  kickshaws,"  said  I.  "  But  seriously, 
Polly,  I  think  that  we  can  show  value  for  all  that 
we  have  spent ;  and  the  whole  amount  is  not 
three  times  what  our  city  house  cost,  and  that 
only  covered  our  heads." 

"  How  do  you  figure  values  here  ?  " 

"  We  get  a  great  deal  more  than  simply  shel- 
ter out  of  this  place,  and  we  have  tangible  values, 
too.  Here  are  some  of  them :  480  acres  of  ex- 
cellent land,  so  well  groomed  and  planted  that  it 
is  worth  of  any  man's  money,  $120  per  acre,  or 
$57,600 ;  buildings,  water-plant,  etc.,  all  as  good 
as  new,  $40,000  ;  44  cows,  $4400  ;  10  heifers  nearly 
two  years  old,  $500 ;  8  horses,  $1200 ;  50  brood 
sows,  $1000  ;  350  young  pigs,  $1700  ;  1300  laying 
hens,  $1300 ;  tools  and  machinery,  $1500 ;  that 
makes  well  over  $100,000  in  sight,  besides  all 
the  things  you  mentioned  before." 

"You  haven't  counted  the  six  horses  in  my 
barn." 

"They  haven't  been  charged  to  the  farm, 
Polly." 

"  Or  the  trees  you've  planted  ?  " 

"  No,  they  go  with  the  land  to  increase  its 
value." 

"  And  my  gardens,  too  ?  " 


THE  THIRD  RECKONING 


315 


"  Yes,  they  are  fixtures  and  count  with  the 
acres.  You  see,  this  land  didn't  cost  quite  $75 
an  acre,  but  I  hold  it  $50  better  for  what  we've 
done  to  it;  I  don't  believe  Bill  Jackson  would 
sell  his  for  less.  I  offered  him  $10,000  for  a 
hundred  acres,  and  he  refused.  We've  put  up 
the  price  of  real  estate  in  this  neighborhood, 
Mrs.  Williams." 

«  Well,  let's  get  at  the  figures.  I'm  dying  to 
see  how  we  stand." 

"  I  have  summarized  them  here  :  — 

"  To  additional  land  and  development  of  plant    $20,353.00 


To  interest  on  previous  investment 
Wages         .... 
Food  for  twenty-five  people 
Food  for  stock    . 
Taxes  and  insurance  .        . 
Shoeing  and  repairs   . 
"  Making  in  all  . 


4,220.00 

4,662.00 

1,523.00 

2,120.00 

207.00 

309.00 

$33,394.00 


$1,297.00 
1,706.00 
3,284.00 
4,831.00 


spent  this  year. 

"  The  receipts  are  :  — 

"  First  quarter  . 
Second  quarter  . 
Third  quarter  . 
Fourth  quarter  . 

"Making $11,118.00 

"  But  we  agreed  to  pay  $4000  a  year  to  the 
farm  for  our  food  and  shelter,  if  it  did  as  well 
by  us  as  the  town  house  did.  Shall  we  do  it, 
Polly  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course ;  we've  been  no  end  more 
comfortable  here." 

"Well,  if  we  don't  expect  to  get  something 


316  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

for  nothing,  I  think  we  ought  to  add  it.  Adding 
$4000  will  make  the  returns  from  the  farm 
$15,118,  leaving  $18,276  to  add  to  the  interest- 
bearing  debt.  Last  year  this  debt  was  $84,404. 
Add  this  year's  deficit,  and  we  have  $102,680. 
A  good  deal  of  money,  Polly,  but  I  showed  you 
well  over  $100,000  in  assets,  —  at  our  own  price, 
to  be  sure,  but  not  far  wrong." 

"  Will  you  ever  have  to  increase  the  debt  ?  " 

« I  think  not.  I  believe  we  shall  reduce  it  a 
little  next  year,  and  each  year  thereafter.  But, 
supposing  it  only  pays  expenses,  how  can  you 
put  on  as  much  style  on  the  interest  of  $100,000 
anywhere  else  as  you  can  here?  It  can't  be 
done.  When  the  fruit  comes  in  and  this  factory 
is  running  full  time,  it  will  earn  well  on  toward 
$25,000  a  year,  and  it  will  not  cost  over  $14,000  to 
run  it,  interest  and  all.  It  won't  take  long  at  that 
rate  to  wipe  out  the  interest-bearing  debt.  You'll 
be  rich,  Polly,  before  you're  ten  years  older." 

"  You  are  rich  now,  in  imagination  and  expec- 
tation, Mr.  Headman,  but  I'll  bank  with  you 
for  a  while  longer.  But  what's  the  use  of  charg- 
ing the  farm  with  interest  when  you  credit  it 
with  our  keeping  ?  " 

"  There  isn't  much  reason  in  that,  Polly.  It's 
about  as  broad  as  it  is  long.  I  simply  like  to 
keep  books  in  that  way.  We  charge  the  farm 
with  a  little  more  than  $4000  interest,  and  we 
credit  it  with  just  $4000  for  our  food  and  shelter. 
We'll  keep  on  in  this  way  because  I  like  it." 


CHAPTER   LIII 

THE   MILK   MACHINE 

In  opening  the  year  1898  I  was  faced  by  a 
larger  business  proposition  than  I  had  originally 
planned.  When  I  undertook  the  experiment  of 
a  factory  farm,  I  placed  the  limit  of  capital  to 
be  invested  at  about  $60,000.  Now  I  found  that 
I  had  exceeded  that  amount  by  a  good  many 
thousand  dollars,  and  I  knew  that  the  end  was 
not  yet.  The  factory  was  not  complete,  and  it 
would  be  several  years  before  it  would  be  at  its 
best  in  output.  While  it  had  cost  me  more  than 
was  originally  contemplated,  and  while  there  was 
yet  more  money  to  be  spent,  there  was  still  no 
reason  for  discouragement.  Indeed,  I  felt  so 
certain  of  ultimate  profits  that  I  was  ready  to 
put  as  much  into  it  as  could  possibly  be  used 
to  advantage. 

The  original  plan  was  for  a  soiling  farm  on 
which  I  could  milk  thirty  cows,  fatten  two  hun- 
dred hogs,  feed  a  thousand  hens,  and  wait  for 
thirty-five  hundred  fruit  trees  to  come  to  a  profit- 
able age.  With  this  in  view,  I  set  apart  forty 
acres  of  high,  dry  land,  for  the  feeding-grounds, 
twenty  acres  of  which  was  devoted  to  the  cows ; 
and  I  now  found  that  this  twenty-acre  lot  would 

317 


318  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

provide  an  ample  exercise  field  for  twice  that 
number.  It  was  in  grass  (timothy,  red-top,  and 
blue  grass),  and  the  cows  nibbled  persistently 
during  the  short  hours  each  day  when  they  were 
permitted  to  be  on  it ;  but  it  was  never  reckoned 
as  part  of  their  ration.  The  sod  was  kept  in 
good  condition  and  the  field  free  from  weeds,  by 
the  use  of  the  mowing-machine,  set  high,  every 
ten  or  twenty  days,  according  to  the  season. 
Following  the  mower,  we  use  a  spring-tooth  rake 
which  bunched  the  weeds  and  gathered  or  broke 
up  the  droppings  ;  and  everything  the  rake  caught 
was  carted  to  the  manure  vats.  Our  big  Hol- 
steins  do  not  suffer  from  close  quarters,  so  far 
as  I  am  able  to  judge,  neither  do  they  take  on 
fat.  From  thirty  minutes  to  three  hours  (de- 
pending on  the  weather),  is  all  the  outing  they 
get  each  day ;  but  this  seems  sufficient  for  their 
needs.  The  well-ventilated  stable  with  its  mod- 
erate temperature  suits  the  sedentary  nature  of 
these  milk  machines,  and  I  am  satisfied  with  the 
results.  I  cannot,  of  course,  speak  with  authority 
of  the  comparative  merits  of  soiling  versus  graz- 
ing, for  I  have  had  no  experience  in  the  latter ; 
but  in  theory  soiling  appeals  to  me,  and  in  prac- 
tice it  satisfies  me. 

When  I  found  I  could  keep  more  cows  on  the 
land  set  apart  for  them,  I  built  another  cow 
stable  for  the  dry  cows  and  the  heifers,  and 
added  four  stalls  to  my  milk  stable  by  turning 
each  of  the  hospital  wards  into  two  stalls. 


THE  MILK  MACHINE  319 

The  ten  heifers  which  I  reserved  in  the  spring 
of  1896  were  now  nearly  two  years  old.  They 
were  expected  to  "  come  in  "  in  the  early  autumn, 
when  they  would  supplement  the  older  herd. 
The  cows  purchased  in  1895  were  now  five  years 
old,  and  quite  equal  to  the  large  demand  which 
we  made  upon  them.  They  had  grown  to  be 
enormous  creatures,  from  thirteen  hundred  to 
fourteen  hundred  pounds  in  weight,  and  they  were 
proving  their  excellence  as  milk  producers  by 
yielding  an  average  of  forty  pounds  a  day.  We 
had,  and  still  have,  one  remarkable  milker,  who 
thinks  nothing  of  yielding  seventy  pounds  when 
fresh,  and  who  doesn't  fall  below  twenty-five 
pounds  when  we  are  forced  to  dry  her  off.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  she  would  be  a  successful 
candidate  for  advanced  registration  if  we  put 
her  to  the  test.  For  ten  months  in  each  year 
these  cows  give  such  quantities  of  milk  as  would 
surprise  a  man  not  acquainted  with  this  noble 
Dutch  family.  My  five  common  cows  were  good 
of  their  kind,  but  they  were  not  in  the  class  with 
the  Holsteins.  They  were  not  "  robber  "  cows, 
for  they  fully  earned  their  food ;  but  there  was 
no  great  profit  in  them.  To  be  sure,  they  did 
not  eat  more  than  two-thirds  as  much  as  the 
Holsteins ;  but  that  fact  did  not  stand  to  their 
credit,  for  the  basic  principle  of  factory  farming 
is  to  consume  as  much  raw  material  as  possible 
and  to  turn  out  its  equivalent  in  finished  product. 
The  common  cows  consumed  only  two-thirds  as 


320  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

much  raw  material  as  the  Holsteins,  and  turned 
out  rather  less  than  two-thirds  of  their  product, 
while  they  occupied  an  equal  amount  of  floor 
space ;  consequently  they  had  to  give  place  to 
more  competent  machines.  They  were  to  be 
sold  during  the  season. 

Why  dairymen  can  be  found  who  will  pay 
$50  apiece  for  cows  like  those  I  had  for  sale 
(better,  indeed,  than  the  average),  is  beyond  my 
method  of  reckoning  values.  Twice  $50  will 
buy  a  young  cow  bred  for  milk,  and  she  would 
prove  both  bread  and  milk  to  the  purchaser  in 
most  cases.  The  question  of  food  should  settle 
itself  for  the  dairyman  as  it  does  for  the  factory 
farmer.  The  more  food  consumed,  the  better  for 
each,  if  the  ratio  of  milk  be  the  same. 

My  Holsteins  are  great  feeders ;  more  than  2 
tons  of  grain,  2^-  tons  of  hay,  and  4  or  5  tons  of 
corn  fodder,  in  addition  to  a  ton  of  roots  or  suc- 
culent vegetables,  pass  through  their  great  mouths 
each  year.  The  hay  is  nearly  equally  divided  be- 
tween timothy,  oat  hay,  and  alfalfa ;  and  when  I 
began  to  figure  the  gross  amount  that  would  be 
required  for  my  50  Holstein  gourmands,  I  saw 
that  the  widow's  farm  had  been  purchased  none 
too  quickly.  To  provide  100  tons  of  grain,  125  tons 
of  hay,  and  200  or  300  tons  of  corn  fodder  for  the 
cows  alone,  was  no  slight  matter ;  but  I  felt  pre- 
pared to  furnish  this  amount  of  raw  material  to 
be  transmuted  into  golden  butter.  The  Four 
Oaks  butter  had  made  a  good  reputation,  and 


THE  MILK  MACHINE  321 

the  four  oak  leaves  stamped  on  each  mould  was 
a  sufficient  guarantee  of  excellence.  My  city 
grocer  urged  a  larger  product,  and  I  felt  safe  in 
promising  it ;  at  the  same  time,  I  held  him  up 
for  a  slight  advance  in  price.  Heretofore  it  had 
netted  me  32  cents  a  pound,  but  from  January  1, 
1898,  I  was  to  have  33^  cents  for  each  pound 
delivered  at  the  station  at  Exeter,  I  agreeing  to 
furnish  at  least  50  pounds  a  day,  six  days  in  a 
week. 

This  was  not  always  easily  done  during  the 
first  eight  months  of  that  year,  and  I  will  con- 
fess to  buying  640  pounds  to  eke  out  the  supply 
for  the  colony ;  but  after  the  young  heifers  came 
in,  there  was  no  trouble,  and  the  purchased 
butter  was  more  than  made  up  to  our  local 
grocer. 

It  will  be  more  satisfactory  to  deal  with  dairy 
matters  in  lump  sums  from  now  on.  The  con- 
tract with  the  city  grocer  still  holds,  and,  though 
he  often  urges  me  to  increase  my  herd,  I  still 
limit  the  supply  to  300  pounds  a  week,  —  some- 
times a  little  more,  but  rarely  less.  I  believe 
that  38  to  44  cows  in  full  flow  of  milk  will 
make  the  best  balance  in  my  factory ;  and  a 
well-balanced  factory  is  what  I  am  after. 

I  am  told  that  animals  are  not  machines,  and 
that  they  cannot  be  run  as  such.  My  animals 
are ;  and  I  run  them  as  I  would  a  shop.  There 
is  no  sentiment  in  my  management.  If  a  cow 
or  a  hog  or  a  hen  doesn't  work  in  a  satisfactory 


322  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

way,  it  ceases  to  occupy  space  in  my  shop,  just 
as  would  an  imperfect  wheel.  The  utmost  kind- 
ness is  shown  to  all  animals  at  Four  Oaks.  This 
rule  is  the  most  imperative  one  on  the  place, 
and  the  one  in  which  no  "extenuating  circum- 
stances "  are  taken  into  account.  There  are  two 
equal  reasons  for  this :  the  first  is  a  deep-rooted 
aversion  to  cruelty  in  all  forms ;  and  the  second  is, 
it  pays.  But  kindness  to  animals  doesn't  imply 
the  necessity  of  keeping  useless  ones  or  those 
whose  usefulness  is  below  one's  standard.  If  a 
man  will  use  the  intelligence  and  attention  to 
detail  in  the  management  of  stock  that  is  neces- 
sary to  the  successful  running  of  a  complicated 
machine,  he  will  find  that  his  stock  doesn't  differ 
greatly  from  his  machine.  The  trouble  with  most 
farmers  is  that  they  think  the  living  machine  can 
be  neglected  with  impunity,  because  it  will  not 
immediately  destroy  itself  or  others,  and  because 
it  is  capable  of  a  certain  amount  of  self-main- 
tenance ;  while  the  dead  machine  has  no  power 
of  self-support,  and  must  receive  careful  and 
punctual  attention  to  prevent  injury  to  itself 
and  to  other  property.  If  a  dairyman  will  feed 
his  cows  as  a  thresher  feeds  the  cylinder  of  his 
threshing-machine,  he  will  find  that  the  milk 
will  flow  from  the  one  about  as  steadily  as  the 
grain  falls  from  the  other. 

Intensive  factory  farming  means  the  use  of  the 
best  machines  pushed  to  the  limit  of  their  capac- 
ity through  the  period  of  their  greatest  useful- 


THE  MILK  MACHINE  323 

ness,  and  then  replaced  by  others.  Pushing  to 
the  limit  of  capacity  is  in  no  sense  cruelty.  It  is 
predicated  on  the  perfect  health  of  the  animal, 
for  without  perfect  condition,  neither  machine 
nor  animal  can  do  its  best  work.  It  is  simply 
encouraging  to  a  high  degree  the  special  function 
for  which  generations  of  careful  breeding  have 
fitted  the  animal. 

That  there  is  gratification  in  giving  milk,  no 
well-bred  cow  or  mother  will  deny.  It  is  a 
joyous  function  to  eat  large  quantities  of  pleas- 
ant food  and  turn  it  into  milk.  Heredity  impels 
the  cow  to  do  this,  and  it  would  take  generations 
of  wild  life  to  wean  her  from  it.  As  well  say 
that  the  cataleptic  trance  of  the  pointer,  when 
the  game  bird  lies  close  and  the  delicate  scent 
fills  his  nostrils,  is  not  a  joy  to  him,  or  that  the 
Dalmatian  at  the  heels  of  his  horse,  or  the  fox- 
hound when  Reynard's  trail  is  warm,  receive  no 
pleasure  from  their  specialties. 

Do  these  animals  feel  no  joy  in  the  perform- 
ance of  service  which  is  bred  into  their  bones 
and  which  it  is  unnatural  or  freakish  for  them 
to  lack  ?  No  one  who  has  watched  the  "  bred- 
for-milk  "  cow  can  doubt  that  the  joys  of  her  life 
are  eating,  drinking,  sleeping,  and  giving  milk. 
Pushing  her  to  the  limit  of  her  capacity  is  only 
intensifying  her  life,  though,  possibly,  it  may 
shorten  it  by  a  year  or  two.  While  she  lives 
she  knows  all  the  happiness  of  cow  life,  and 
knows  it  to  the  full.     What  more  can  she  ask  ? 


324  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

She  would  starve  on  the  buffalo  grass  which 
supports  her  half-wild  sister,  "  northers  "  would 
freeze  her,  and  the  snow  would  bury  her.  She 
is  a  product  of  high  cow-civilization,  and  as  such 
she  must  have  the  intelligent  care  of  man  or  she 
cannot  do  her  best.  With  this  care  she  is  a  mar- 
vellous machine  for  the  making  of  the  only  article 
of  food  which  in  itself  is  competent  to  support 
life  in  man.  If  my  Holsteins  are  not  machines, 
they  resemble  them  so  closely  that  I  will  not 
quarrel  with  the  name. 

What  is  true  of  the  cow,  is  true  also  of  the 
pork-making  machine  that  we  call  the  hog.  His 
wild  and  savage  progenitor  is  lost,  and  we  have 
in  his  place  a  sluggish  animal  that  is  a  very 
model  as  a  food  producer.  His  three  pleasures 
are  eating,  sleeping,  and  growing  fat.  He  fol- 
lows these  pleasures  with  such  persistence  that 
250  days  are  enough  to  perfect  him.  It  can  cer- 
tainly be  no  hardship  to  a  pig  to  encourage  him 
in  a  life  of  sloth  and  gluttony  which  appeals  to 
his  taste  and  to  my  profit. 

Custom  and  interest  make  his  life  ephemeral ; 
I  make  it  comfortable.  From  the  day  of  his 
birth  until  we  separate,  I  take  watchful  care  of 
him.  During  infancy  he  is  protected  from  cold 
and  wet,  and  his  mother  is  coddled  by  the  most 
nourishing  foods,  that  she  may  not  fail  in  her 
duty  to  him.  During  childhood  he  is  provided 
with  a  warm  house,  a  clean  bed,  and  a  yard  in 
which  to  disport  himself,  and  is  fed  for  growth 


THE  MILK  MACHINE  325 

and  bone  on  skim-milk,  oatmeal,  and  sweet 
alfalfa.  During  his  youth,  corn  meal  is  liberally 
added  to  his  diet,  also  other  dainties  which  he 
enjoys  and  makes  much  of ;  and  during  his  whole 
life  he  has  access  to  clean  water,  and  to  the  only 
medicine  which  a  pig  needs,  —  a  mixture  of  ashes, 
charcoal,  salt,  and  sulphur. 

When  he  has  spent  250  happy  days  with  me, 
we  part  company  with  feelings  of  mutual  respect, 
—  he  to  finish  his  mission,  I  to  provide  for  his 
successor. 

My  early  plan  was  to  turn  off  200  of  this  fin- 
ished product  each  year,  but  I  soon  found  that  I 
could  do  much  better.  One  can  raise  a  crop  of 
hogs  nearly  as  quickly  as  a  crop  of  corn,  and 
with  much  more  profit,  if  the  food  be  at  hand. 
There  was  likely  to  be  an  abundance  of  food. 
I  was  more  willing  to  sell  it  in  pig  skins  than 
in  any  other  packages.  My  plan  was  now  to 
turn  off,  not  200  hogs  each  year,  but  600  or  more. 
I  had  60  well-bred  sows,  young  and  old,  and  I 
could  count  on  them  to  farrow  at  least  three 
times  in  two  years.  The  litters  ought  to  average 
7  each,  say  22  pigs  in  two  years ;  60  times  22  are 
1320,  and  half  of  1320  is  660.  Yes,  at  that  rate, 
I  could  count  on  about  600  finished  hogs  to  sell 
each  year.  But  if  my  calculations  were  too  high, 
I  could  easily  keep  10  more  brood  sows,  for  I 
had  sufficient  room  to  keep  them  healthy. 

The  two  five-acre  lots,  Nos.  3  and  5,  had  been 
given  over  to  the  brood  sows  when  they  were 


S2t>  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

not  caring  for  young  litters  in  the  brood-house. 
Comfortable  shelters  and  a  cemented  basin  twelve 
feet  by  twelve,  and  one  foot  deep,  had  been  built 
in  each  lot.  The  water-pipe  that  ran  through 
the  chicken  lot  (No.  4)  connected  with  these 
basins,  as  did  also  a  drain-pipe  to  the  drain  in 
the  north  lane,  so  that  it  was  easy  to  turn  on 
fresh  water  and  to  draw  off  that  which  was  soiled. 
Through  this  device  my  brood  sows  had  access 
to  a  water  bath  eight  inches  deep,  whenever 
they  were  in  the  fields.  My  hogs,  young  or  old, 
have  never  been  permitted  to  wallow  in  mud. 
We  have  no  mud-holes  at  Four  Oaks  to  grow 
stale  and  breed  disease.  The  breeding  hogs  have 
exercise  lots  and  baths,  but  the  young  growing 
and  fattening  stock  have  neither.  They  are  kept 
in  runs  twenty  feet  by  one  hundred,  in  bunches 
of  from  twenty  to  forty,  according  to  age,  from 
the  time  they  are  weaned  until  they  leave  the 
place  for  good.  This  plan,  which  I  did  not  in- 
tend to  change,  opened  a  question  in  my  mind 
that  gave  me  pause.  It  was  this :  Can  I  hope, 
even  with  the  utmost  care,  to  keep  the  house  for 
growing  and  fattening  swine  free  from  disease  if 
I  keep  it  constantly  full  of  swine  ? 

The  more  I  thought  about  it  the  less  probable 
it  appeared.  The  pig-house  had  cost  me  $4320. 
Another  would  cost  as  much,  if  not  more,  and  I 
did  not  like  to  go  to  the  expense  unless  it  were 
necessary.  I  worked  over  this  problem  for  sev- 
eral days,  and  finally  came  to  the  conclusion  that 


THE  MILK  MACHINE  327 

I  should  never  feel  easy  about  my  swine  until  I 
had  two  houses  for  them,  besides  the  brood-house 
for  the  sows.  I  therefore  gave  the  order  to  Nel- 
son to  build  another  swine-house  as  soon  as 
spring  opened.  My  plan  was,  and  I  carried  it 
out,  to  move  all  the  colonies  every  three  months, 
and  to  have  the  vacant  house  thoroughly  cleaned, 
sprayed  with  a  powerful  germicide,  and  white- 
washed. The  runs  were  to  be  turned  over,  when 
the  weather  would  permit,  and  the  ground  sown 
to  oats  or  rye. 

The  new  house  was  finished  in  June,  and  the 
pigs  were  moved  into  it  on  July  1st  with  a  lease 
of  three  months.  My  mind  has  been  easy  on  the 
question  of  the  health  of  my  hogs  ever  since  ; 
and  with  reason,  for  there  has  been  no  epizootic 
or  other  serious  form  of  disease  in  my  piggery, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  there  are  often  more  than 
1200  pigs  of  all  degrees  crowded  into  this  five-acre 
lot.  The  two  pig-houses  and  the  brood-house,  with 
their  runs,  cover  the  whole  of  the  lot,  except  the 
broad  street  of  sixty  feet  just  inside  my  high 
quarantine  fence,  which  encloses  the  whole  of  it. 


CHAPTER   LIV 


BACON    AND    EGGS 


Each  hog  turned  out  from  my  piggery  weigh- 
ing 270  pounds  or  more,  has  eaten  of  my  sub- 
stance not  less  than  500  pounds  of  grain,  250 
pounds  of  chopped  alfalfa,  250  pounds  of  roots  or 
vegetables,  and  such  quantities  of  skimmed  milk 
and  swill  as  have  fallen  to  his  share.  I  could 
reckon  the  approximate  cost  of  these  foods,  but 
I  will  not  do  so.  All  but  the  middlings  and  oil 
meal  come  from  the  farm  and  are  paid  for  by 
certain  fixed  charges  heretofore  mentioned.  The 
middlings  and  oil  meal  are  charged  in  the  "  food 
for  animals  "  account  at  the  rate  of  $1  a  year  for 
each  finished  hog. 

The  truth  is  that  a  large  part  of  the  food 
which  enters  into  the  making  of  each  300  pounds 
of  live  pork,  is  of  slow  sale,  and  that  for  some 
of  it  there  is  no  sale  at  all,  —  for  instance,  house 
swill,  dish-water,  butter-washings,  garden  weeds, 
lawn  clippings,  and  all  sorts  of  coarse  vegetables. 
A  hog  makes  half  his  growth  out  of  refuse  which 
has  no  value,  or  not  sufficient  to  warrant  the 
effort  and  expense  of  selling  it.  He  has  unequalled 
facilities  for   turning   non-negotiable   scrip  into 

328 


BACON  AND  EGGS  329 

convertible  bonds,  and  he  is  the  greatest  money- 
maker on  the  farm.  If  the  grain  ration  were  all 
corn,  and  if  there  were  a  roadside  market  for  it 
at  35  cents  a  bushel,  it  would  cost  $3.12 ;  the 
alfalfa  would  be  worth  $1.45,  and  the  vegetables 
probably  65  cents,  under  like  conditions,  making 
a  total  of  $5.22  as  a  possible  gross  value  of  the 
food  which  the  hog  has  eaten.  The  gross  value 
of  these  things,  however,  is  far  above  their  net 
value  when  one  considers  time  and  expense  of 
sale.  The  hog  saves  all  this  trouble  by  tucking 
under  his  skin  slow-selling  remnants  of  farm  prod- 
ucts and  making  of  them  finished  assets  which 
can  be  turned  into  cash  at  a  day's  notice. 

To  feed  the  hogs  on  the  scale  now  planned,  I 
had  to  provide  for  something  like  7000  bushels 
of  grain,  chiefly  corn  and  oats,  100  tons  of 
alfalfa,  and  an  equal  amount  of  vegetables,  chiefly 
sugar  beets  and  mangel-wurzel.  Certainly  the 
widow's  land  would  be  needed. 

The  poultry  had  also  outgrown  my  original 
plans,  and  I  had  built  with  reference  to  my  larger 
views.  There  were  five  houses  on  the  poultry 
lot,  each  200  feet  long,  and  each  divided  into  ten 
equal  pens.  Four  of  these  houses  were  for  the 
laying  hens,  which  were  divided  into  flocks  of 
40  each ;  while  the  other  house  was  for  the 
growing  chickens  and  for  cockerels  being  fattened 
for  market. 

There  were  now  on  hand  more  than  1300 
pullets  and  hens,  and  I  instructed  Sam  to  run 


330  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

his  incubator  overtime  that  season,  so  as  to  fill 
our  houses  by  autumn.  I  should  need  800  or 
900  pullets  to  make  our  quota  good,  for  most  of 
the  older  hens  would  have  to  be  disposed  of  in 
the  autumn,  —  all  but  about  200,  which  would 
be  kept  until  the  following  spring  to  breed  from. 

I  believe  that  a  three-year-old  hen  that  has 
shown  the  egg  habit  is  the  best  fowl  to  breed 
from,  and  it  is  the  custom  at  Four  Oaks  to  re- 
serve specially  good  pens  for  this  purpose.  The 
egg  habit  is  unquestionably  as  much  a  matter  of 
heredity  as  the  milk  or  the  fat  producing  habit, 
and  should  be  as  carefully  cultivated.  With  this 
end  in  view,  Sam  added  young  cockerels  to  four 
of  his  best-producing  flocks  on  January  1,  and  by 
the  15th  he  was  able  to  start  his  incubators. 

Breeding  and  feeding  for  eggs  is  on  the  same 
principle  as  feeding  and  breeding  for  milk.  It 
is  no  more  natural  for  a  hen  to  lay  eggs  for 
human  consumption  than  it  is  for  the  robin  to  do 
so,  or  for  the  cow  to  give  more  milk  than  is  suffi- 
cient for  her  calf.  Man's  necessity  has  made 
demands  upon  both  cow  and  hen,  and  man's  in- 
telligence has  converted  individualists  into  social- 
ists in  both  of  these  races.  They  no  longer  live 
for  themselves  alone.  As  the  cow,  under  favor- 
able conditions,  finds  pleasure  in  giving  milk,  so 
does  the  hen  under  like  conditions  take  delight 
in  giving  eggs,  —  else  why  the  joyous  cackle  when 
leaving  her  nest  after  doing  her  full  duty  ?  She 
gloats  over  it,  and  glories  in  it,  and  announces 


BACON  AND  EGGS  331 

her  satisfaction  to  the  whole  yard.  It  is  some- 
thing to  be  proud  of,  and  the  cackling  hen  knows 
it  better  than  you  or  I.  It  can  be  no  hardship 
to  push  this  egg  machine  to  the  limit  of  its 
capacity.  It  adds  new  zest  to  the  life  of  the  hen, 
and  multiplies  her  opportunities  for  well-earned 
self-congratulation. 

Our  hens  are  fed  for  eggs,  and  we  get  what  we 
feed  for.  I  said  of  my  hens  that  I  would  not 
ask  them  to  lay  more  than  eight  dozen  eggs  each 
year,  and  I  will  stick  to  what  I  said.  But  I  do 
not  reject  voluntary  contributions  beyond  this 
number.  Indeed,  I  accept  them  with  thanks,  and 
give  Biddy  a  word  of  commendation  for  her 
gratuity.  Eight  dozen  eggs  a  year  will  pay  a  good 
profit,  but  if  each  of  my  hens  wishes  to  present 
me  with  two  dozen  more,  I  slip  62  cents  into  my 
pocket  and  say,  "  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you, 
miss,"  or  madam,  as  the  case  may  be.  Most  of 
my  hens  do  remember  me  in  this  substantial  way, 
and  the  White  Wyandottes  are  in  great  favor 
with  the  Headman. 

The  houses  in  which  my  hens  live  are  almost 
as  clean  as  the  one  I  inhabit  (and  Polly  is  tidy 
to  a  degree) ;  their  food  is  as  carefully  prepared 
as  mine,  and  more  punctually  served ;  their  ene- 
mies are  fended  off,  and  they  are  never  fright- 
ened by  dogs  or  other  animals,  for  the  five-acre 
lot  on  which  their  houses  and  runs  are  built  is 
enclosed  by  a  substantial  fence  that  prevents  any 
interloping  ;   book   agents    never   disturb    their 


332  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

siestas,  nor  do  tree  men  make  their  lives  hideous 
with  lithographs  of  impossible  fruit  on  improbable 
trees.  Whether  I  am  indebted  to  one  or  to  all 
of  these  conditions  for  my  full  egg  baskets,  I  am 
unable  to  say  ;  but  I  do  not  purpose  to  make  any 
change,  for  my  egg  baskets  are  as  full  as  a 
reasonable  man  could  wish.  As  nearly  as  I  can 
estimate,  my  hens  give  thirty  per  cent  egg  re- 
turns as  a  yearly  average  —  about  120  eggs  for 
each  hen  in  365  days.  This  is  more  than  I  ask 
of  them,  but  I  do  not  refuse  their  generosity. 

Every  egg  is  worth,  in  my  market,  21  cents, 
which  means  that  the  yearly  product  of  each 
hen  could  be  sold  for  $3.  Something  more  than 
two  thousand  dozen  are  consumed  by  the  home 
colony  or  the  incubators  ;  the  rest  find  their  way 
to  the  city  in  clean  cartons  of  one  dozen  each, 
with  a  stencil  of  Four  Oaks  and  a  guarantee  that 
they  are  not  twenty-four  hours  old  when  they 
reach  the  middleman. 

In  return  for  this  $3  a  year,  what  do  I  give 
my  hens  besides  a  clean  house  and  yard  ?  A  con- 
stant supply  of  fresh  water,  sharp  grits,  oyster 
shells,  and  a  bath  of  road  dust  and  sifted  ashes,  to 
which  is  added  a  pinch  of  insect  powder.  Twice 
each  day  five  pounds  of  fresh  skim-milk  is  given 
to  each  flock  of  forty.  In  the  morning  they 
have  a  warm  mash  composed  of  (for  1600  hens) 
50  pounds  of  alfalfa  hay  cut  fine  and  soaked  all 
night  in  hot  water,  50  pounds  of  corn  meal,  50 
pounds  of  oat  meal,  50  pounds  of  bran,  and  20 


BACON  AND  EGGS  333 

pounds  of  either  meat  meal  or  cotton-seed  meal. 
At  noon  they  get  100  pounds  of  mixed  grains  — 
wheat  and  buckwheat  usually  —  with  some  green 
vegetables  to  pick  at;  and  at  night  125  to  150 
pounds  of  whole  corn.  There  are  variations  of 
this  diet  from  time  to  time,  but  no  radical  change. 
I  have  read  much  of  a  balanced  ration,  but  I 
fancy  a  hen  will  balance  her  own  ration  if  you 
give  her  the  chance. 

Milk  is  one  of  the  most  important  items  on 
this  bill  of  fare,  and  all  hens  love  it.  It  should 
be  fed  entirely  fresh,  and  the  crocks  or  earthen 
dishes  from  which  it  is  eaten  should  be  thoroughly 
cleansed  each  day.  Four  ounces  for  each  hen  is 
a  good  daily  ration,  and  we  divide  this  into  two 
feedings. 

Our  1600  hens  eat  about  75  tons  of  grain  a 
year.  Add  to  this  the  100  tons  which  50  cows 
will  require,  200  tons  for  the  swine,  and  25  tons 
for  the  horses,  and  we  have  400  tons  of  grain  to 
provide  for  the  stock  on  the  factory  farm. 
Nearly  a  fourth  of  this,  in  the  shape  of  bran, 
gluten  meal,  oil  meal,  and  meat  meal,  must  be 
purchased,  for  we  have  no  way  of  producing  it. 
For  the  other  300  tons  we  must  look  to  the  land 
or  to  a  low  market.  Three  hundred  tons  of 
mixed  grains  means  something  like  13,000  bushels, 
and  I  cannot  hope  to  raise  this  amount  from 
my  land  at  present. 

Fortunately  the  grain  market  was  to  my  liking 
in  January  of  1898 ;  and  though  there  were  still 


334  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

more  than  7000  bushels  in  my  granary,  I  pur- 
chased 5000  bushels  of  corn  and  as  much  oats 
against  a  higher  market.  The  corn  cost  27  cents 
a  bushel  and  the  oats  22,  delivered  at  Exeter, 
the  10,000  bushels  amounting  to  $2450,  to  be 
charged  to  the  farm  account. 

I  was  now  prepared  to  face  the  food  problem, 
for  I  had  more  than  17,000  bushels  of  grain  to 
supplement  the  amount  the  farm  would  produce, 
and  to  tide  me  along  until  cheap  grain  should 
come  again,  or  until  my  land  should  produce 
enough  for  my  needs.  The  supply  in  hand  plus 
that  which  I  could  reasonably  expect  to  raise, 
would  certainly  provide  for  three  years  to  come, 
and  this  is  farther  than  the  average  farmer  looks 
into  the  future.  But  I  claim  to  be  more  enter- 
prising than  an  average  farmer,  and  determined 
to  keep  my  eyes  open  and  to  take  advantage  of 
any  favorable  opportunity  to  strengthen  my 
position. 

In  the  meantime  it  was  necessary  to  force  my 
trees,  and  to  secure  more  help  for  the  farm 
work.  To  push  fruit  trees  to  the  limit  of  healthy 
growth  is  practical  and  wise.  They  can  accom- 
plish as  much  in  growth  and  development  in 
three  years,  when  judiciously  stimulated,  as  in 
five  or  six  years  of  the  « lick-and-a-promise  "  kind 
of  care  which  they  usually  receive. 

A  tree  must  be  fed  first  for  growth  and  after- 
ward for  fruit,  just  as  a  pig  is  managed,  if  one 
wishes  quick  returns.     To  plant  a  tree  and  leave 


BACON  AND  EGGS  335 

it  to  the  tenderness  of  nature,  with  only  occa- 
sional attention,  is  to  make  the  heart  sick,  for  it 
is  certain  to  prove  a  case  of  hope  deferred.  In 
the  fulness  of  time  the  tree  and  "happy-go- 
lucky  "  nature  will  prove  themselves  equal  to  the 
development  of  fruit;  but  they  will  be  slow  in 
doing  it.  It  is  quite  as  well  for  the  tree,  and 
greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  horticulturist,  to 
cut  two  or  three  years  out  of  this  unprofitable 
time.  All  that  is  necessary  to  accomplish  this 
is :  to  keep  the  ground  loose  for  a  space  around 
the  tree  somewhat  larger  than  the  spread  of  its 
branches ;  to  apply  fertilizers  rich  in  nitrogen  ;  to 
keep  the  whole  of  the  cultivated  space  mulched 
with  good  barn-yard  manure,  increasing  the  thick- 
ness of  the  mulch  with  coarse  stuff  in  the  fall,  so 
as  to  lengthen  the  season  of  root  activity ;  and  to 
draw  the  mulch  aside  about  St.  Patrick's  Day, 
that  the  sun's  rays  may  warm  the  earth  as  early 
as  possible.  Moderate  pruning,  nipping  back  of 
exuberant  branches,  and  two  sprayings  of  the 
foliage  with  Bordeaux  mixture,  to  keep  fungus 
enemies  in  check,  comprise  all  the  care  required 
by  the  growing  tree.  This  treatment  will  con- 
dense the  ordinary  growth  of  five  years  into 
three,  and  the  tree  will  be  all  the  better  for  the 
forcing. 

As  soon  as  fruit  spurs  and  buds  begin  to  show 
themselves,  the  treatment  should  be  modified, 
but  not  remitted.  Less  nitrogen  and  more 
phosphoric  acid  and  potash  are  to  be  used,  and 


336  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

the  mulch  should  not  be  removed  in  the  early 
spring.  The  objects  now  are,  to  stimulate  the 
fruit  buds  and  to  retard  activity  in  the  roots 
until  the  danger  from  late  frosts  is  past.  As  a 
result  of  this  kind  of  treatment,  many  varieties 
of  apple  trees  will  give  moderate  crops  when  the 
roots  are  seven,  and  the  trunks  are  six  years  old. 
Fruit  buds  showed  in  abundance  on  many  of  my 
trees  in  the  fall  of  1897,  especially  on  the  Duch- 
ess and  the  Yellow  Transparent,  and  I  looked 
for  a  small  apple  harvest  that  year. 


CHAPTER   LV 

THE    OLD    TIME   FARM-HAND 

With  all  my  industries  thus  increasing,  the 
necessity  for  more  help  became  imperative. 
French  and  Judson  had  their  hands  more  than 
full  in  the  dairy  barns,  and  had  to  be  helped  out 
by  Thompson.  Anderson  could  not  give  the 
swine  all  the  attention  they  needed,  and  was 
assisted  by  Otto,  who  proved  an  excellent  swine- 
herd. Sam  had  the  aid  of  Lars's  boys  with  the 
poultry,  and  very  efficient  aid  it  was,  consider- 
ing the  time  they  could  give  to  it.  They  had  to 
be  off  with  the  market  wagon  at  7.40,  and  did 
not  return  from  school  until  4  p.m.  Lars  was 
busy  in  the  carriage  barn  ;  and  though  we  spared 
him  as  much  as  possible  from  driving,  he  had  to 
be  helped  out  by  Johnson  at  such  times  as  the 
latter  could  spare  from  his  greenhouse  and  hot- 
beds. Zeb  took  care  of  the  farm  teams ;  but  the 
winter's  work  of  distributing  forage  and  grain, 
getting  up  wood  and  ice,  hauling  manure,  and  so 
forth,  had  to  be  done  in  a  desultory  and  irregu- 
lar manner.  The  spring  work  would  find  us 
wofully  behindhand  if  I  did  not  look  sharp. 
I  had  been  looking  sharp  since  January  set  in, 

z  337 


338  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  had  experienced,  for  the  first  time,  real  dif- 
ficulties in  finding  anything  like  good  help. 
Hitherto  I  had  been  especially  fortunate  in  this 
regard.  I  had  met  some  reverses,  but  in  the 
main  good  luck  had  followed  me.  I  had  nine 
good  men  who  seemed  contented  and  who  were 
all  saving  money,  —  an  excellent  sign  of  stability 
and  contentment.  Even  Lars  had  not  fallen 
from  grace  but  once,  and  that  could  hardly  be 
charged  against  him,  for  Jack  and  Jarvis  had 
tempted  him  beyond  resistance ;  while  Sam's 
nose  was  quite  blanched,  and  he  was  to  all 
appearances  firmly  seated  on  the  water  wagon. 
Really,  I  did  not  know  what  labor  troubles 
meant  until  1898,  but  since  then  I  have  not  had 
clear  sailing. 

From  my  previous  experience  with  working- 
men,  I  had  formed  the  opinion  that  they  were 
reasoning  and  reasonable  human  beings,  —  with 
peculiarities,  of  course ;  and  that  as  a  class  they 
were  ready  to  give  good  service  for  fair  wages 
and  decent  treatment.  In  early  life  I  had  been 
a  working-man  myself,  and  I  thought  I  could 
understand  the  feelings  and  sympathize  with  the 
trials  of  the  laborer  from  the  standpoint  of  per- 
sonal experience.  I  was  sorely  mistaken.  The 
laboring  man  of  to-day  is  a  different  proposition 
from  the  man  who  did  manual  labor  "  before  the 
war."  That  he  is  more  intelligent,  more  provi- 
dent, happier,  or  better  in  any  way,  I  sincerely 
doubt ;   that  he  is  restless,  dissatisfied,  and  less 


THE   OLD  TIME  FARM-HAND  339 

efficient,  I  believe ;  that  he  is  unreasonable  in 
his  demands  and  regardless  of  the  interests  of 
his  employer,  I  know.  There  are  many  shining 
exceptions,  and  to  these  I  look  for  the  ultimate 
regeneration  of  labor ;  but  the  rule  holds  true. 

I  do  not  believe  that  the  principles  of  life 
have  changed  in  forty  years.  I  do  not  believe 
that  an  intelligent,  able-bodied  man  need  be  a 
servant  all  his  life,  or  that  industry  and  economy 
miss  their  rewards,  or  that  there  is  any  truth  in 
the  theory  that  men  cannot  rise  out  of  the  rut 
in  which  they  happen  to  find  themselves.  The 
trouble  is  with  the  man,  not  with  the  rut.  He 
spends  his  time  in  wallowing  rather  than  in 
diligently  searching  for  an  outlet  or  in  honestly 
working  his  way  up  to  it.  Heredity  and  en- 
vironment are  heavy  weights,  but  industry  and 
sobriety  can  carry  off  heavier  ones.  I  have 
sympathy  for  weakness  of  body  or  mind,  and 
patience  for  those  over  whom  inheritance  has 
cast  a  baleful  spell ;  but  I  have  neither  patience 
nor  sympathy  for  a  strong  man  who  rails  at  his 
condition  and  makes  no  determined  effort  to 
better   it. 

The  time  and  money  wasted  in  strikes,  agita- 
tions, and  arbitrations,  if  put  to  practical  use, 
would  better  the  working-man  enough  faster 
than  these  futile  efforts  do.  I  have  no  quarrel 
with  unions  or  combinations  of  labor,  so  far  as 
they  have  the  true  interests  of  labor  for  an 
object;  but  I  do  quarrel  with  the  spirit  of  mob 


340  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

rule  and  the  evidences  of  conspicuous  waste, 
which  have  grown  so  rampant  as  to  overshadow 
the  helpful  hand  and  to  threaten,  not  the  stabil- 
ity of  society  —  for  in  the  background  I  see  six 
million  conservative  sons  of  the  soil  who  will 
look  to  the  stability  of  things  when  the  time 
comes  —  but  the  unions  themselves. 

I  remember  my  first  summer  on  a  farm.  It 
lasted  from  the  first  day  of  April  to  the  thirty- 
first  day  of  October,  and  on  the  evening  of  that 
day  I  carried  to  my  father  $28,  the  full  wage  for 
seven  months.  I  could  not  have  spent  one  cent 
during  that  time,  for  I  carried  the  whole  sum 
home ;  but  I  do  not  remember  that  I  was  con- 
scious of  any  want.  The  hours  on  the  farm 
were  not  short;  an  eight-hour  day  would  have 
been  considered  but  a  half-day.  We  worked 
from  sun  to  sun,  and  I  grew  and  knew  no  sor- 
row or  oppression.  The  next  year  I  received 
the  munificent  wage  of  $6  a  month,  and  the 
following  year,  $8. 

In  after  years,  in  brick-yards,  sawmills,  lum- 
ber woods,  or  harvest  fields,  there  was  no  arbi- 
trary limit  put  upon  the  amount  of  work  to  be 
done.  If  I  chose  to  do  the  work  of  a  man  and 
a  half,  I  got  $1.50  for  doing  it,  and  it  would 
have  been  a  bold  and  sturdy  delegate  who  tried 
to  hold  me  from  it.  I  felt  no  need  of  help  from 
outside.  I  was  fit  to  care  for  myself,  and  I 
minded  not  the  long  hours,  the  hard  work,  or 
the  hard  bed.     This  life  was  preliminary  to  a 


THE  OLD  TIME  FARM-HAND  341 

fuller  one,  and  it  served  its  use.  I  know  what 
tired  legs  and  back  mean,  and  I  know  that  one 
need  not  have  them  always  if  he  will  use  the 
ordinary  sense  which  God  gives.  Genius,  or 
special  cleverness,  is  not  necessary  to  get  a  man 
out  of  the  rut  of  hard  manual  labor.  Just  plain, 
everyday  sense  will  do.  But  before  I  had  se- 
cured the  three  men  for  whom  I  was  in  search, 
I  began  to  feel  that  this  common  sense  of  which 
we  speak  so  glibly  is  a  rare  commodity  under 
the  working-man's  hat.  I  advertised,  sent  to 
agencies  and  intelligence  offices,  interviewed  and 
inspected,  consulted  friends  and  enemies,  and  so 
generally  harrowed  my  life  that  I  was  fit  to  give 
up  the  whole  business  and  retire  into  a  cave. 

By  actual  count,  I  saw  more  than  one  hundred 
men,  of  all  ages,  sizes,  and  colors.  Eight  of  these 
were  tried,  of  whom  five  were  found  wanting. 
Early  in  February  I  had  settled  upon  three  sober 
men  to  add  to  our  colony.  As  none  of  these 
lasted  the  year  out,  I  may  be  forgiven  for  not 
introducing  them  to  the  reader.  They  served 
their  purpose,  and  mine  too,  and  then  drifted  on. 


CHAPTER   LVI 

THE    SYNDICATE 

I  do  not  wish  to  take  credit  for  things  which 
gave  me  pleasure  in  the  doing,  or  to  appear  altru- 
istic in  my  dealings  with  the  people  employed  at 
Four  Oaks.  I  tell  of  our  business  and  other  re- 
lations because  they  are  details  of  farm  history 
and  rightfully  belong  to  these  pages.  If  I  dealt 
fairly  by  my  men  and  established  relations  of 
mutual  confidence  and  dependence,  it  was  not 
in  the  hope  that  my  ways  might  be  approved 
and  commended,  but  because  it  paid,  in  more 
ways  than  one.  I  wanted  my  men  to  have  a 
lively  interest  in  the  things  which  were  of  im- 
portance to  me,  that  their  efforts  might  be  intel- 
ligent and  direct ;  and  I  was  glad  to  enter  into 
their  schemes,  either  for  pleasure  or  for  profit, 
with  such  aid  as  I  could  give.  Cordial  under- 
standing between  employee  and  employer  puts 
life  into  the  contract,  and  disposes  of  perfunctory 
service,  which  simply  recognizes  a  definite  deed 
for  a  definite  compensation.  Uninterested  labor 
leaves  a  load  of  hay  in  the  field  to  be  injured, 
just   because  the  hour   for   quitting  has    come, 

842 


THE   SYNDICATE  343 

while  interested  labor  hurries  the  hay  into  the 
barn  to  make  it  safe,  knowing  that  the  extra 
half-hour  will  be  made  up  to  it  in  some  other 
way. 

It  pays  the  farmer  to  take  his  help  into  a  kind 
of  partnership,  not  always  in  his  farm,  but  always 
in  his  consideration.  That  is  why  my  farm-house 
was  filled  with  papers  and  magazines  of  interest 
to  the  men ;  that  is  why  I  spent  many  an  even- 
ing with  them  talking  over  our  industries ;  that 
is  why  I  purchased  an  organ  for  them  when  I 
found  that  Mrs.  French,  the  dairymaid,  could 
play  on  it ;  that  is  why  I  talked  economy  to 
them  and  urged  them  to  place  some  part  of  each 
month's  wage  in  the  Exeter  Savings  Bank ;  and 
that  is  why,  early  in  1898,  I  formulated  a  plan 
for  investing  their  wages  at  a  more  profitable  rate 
of  interest.  I  asked  each  one  to  give  me  a  state- 
ment of  his  or  her  savings  up  to  date.  They  were 
quite  willing  to  do  this,  and  I  found  that  the  ag- 
gregate for  the  eight  men  and  three  women  was 
$2530.  Anderson,  who  saved  most  of  his  wages, 
had  an  account  in  a  city  savings  bank,  and  did 
not  join  us  in  our  syndicate,  though  he  approved 
of  it. 

The  money  was  made  up  of  sums  varying  from 
$90,  Lena's  savings,  to  $460  owned  by  Judson,  the 
buggy  man.  My  proposition  was  this :  Pool  the 
funds,  buy  Chicago,  Rock  Island,  and  Pacific 
stock,  and  hold  it  for  one  or  two  years.  The 
interest  would  be  twice  as  much  as  they  were 


344  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

getting  from  the  bank,  while  the  prospect  of  a 
decided  advance  was  good.     I  said  to  them  :  — 

"I  have  owned  Chicago,  Rock  Island,  and 
Pacific  stock  for  more  than  three  years.  I  com- 
menced to  buy  at  fifty-seven,  and  I  am  still  buy- 
ing, when  I  can  get  hold  of  a  little  money  that 
doesn't  have  to  go  into  this  blessed  farm.  It  is 
now  eighty-one,  and  it  will  go  higher.  I  am  so 
sure  of  this  that  I  will  agree  to  take  the  stock 
from  each  or  all  of  you  at  the  price  you  pay  for  it 
at  any  time  during  the  next  two  years.  There  is 
no  risk  in  this  proposition  to  you,  and  there  may 
be  a  very  handsome  return." 

They  were  pleased  with  the  plan,  and  we 
formed  a  pool  to  buy  thirty  shares  of  stock. 
Thompson  and  I  were  trustees,  and  the  certifi- 
cate stood  in  our  names ;  but  each  contributor 
received  a  pro-rata  interest ;  Lena,  one  thirtieth  ; 
Judson,  five-thirtieths ;  and  the  others  between 
these  extremes.  The  stock  was  bought  at  eighty- 
two.  I  may  as  well  explain  now  how  it  came 
out,  for  I  am  not  proud  of  my  acumen  at  the 
finish.  A  little  more  than  a  year  later  the  stock 
reached  122,  and  I  advised  the  syndicate  to  sell. 
They  were  all  pleased  at  the  time  with  the  hand- 
some profit  they  had  made,  but  I  suspect  they 
have  often  figured  what  they  might  have  made 
"  if  the  boss  hadn't  been  such  a  chump,"  for  we 
have  seen  the  stock  go  above  two  hundred. 

This  was  not  the  only  enterprise  in  which  our 
colony  took  a  small  share.     The  people  at  Four 


THE   SYNDICATE  345 

Oaks  are  now  content  to  hold  shares  in  one  of 
the  great  trusts,  which  they  bought  several  points 
below  par,  and  which  pay  14  per  cent  every 
three  months.  Even  Lena,  who  held  only  one 
share  of  the  C,  R.  I.,  &  P.  five  years  ago,  has 
so  increased  her  income-bearing  property  that 
she  is  now  looked  upon  as  a  "  catch "  by  her 
acquaintances.  If  I  am  correctly  informed,  she 
has  an  annual  income  of  $105,  independent  of 
her  wages. 


CHAPTER   LVII 

THE    DEATH    OP    SIR    TOM 

At  7.30  on  the  morning  of  March  16,  Dr. 
High  telephoned  me  that  Sir  Thomas  O'Hara 
was  seriously  ill,  and  asked  me  to  come  at  once. 
It  took  but  a  few  minutes  to  have  Jerry  at  the 
door,  and,  breasting  a  cold,  thin  rain  at  a  sharp 
gallop,  I  was  at  my  friend's  door  before  the 
clock  struck  eight.  Dr.  High  met  me  with  a 
heavy  face. 

"  Sir  Tom  is  bad,"  said  he,  u  with  double 
pneumonia,  and  I  am  awfully  afraid  it  will  go 
hard  with  him." 

I  remembered  that  my  friend's  pale  face  had 
looked  a  shade  paler  than  usual  the  evening  be- 
fore, and  that  there  had  been  a  pinched  expres- 
sion around  the  nose  and  mouth,  as  if  from  pain  ; 
but  Sir  Tom  had  many  twinges  from  his  old 
enemy,  gout,  which  he  did  not  care  to  discuss, 
and  I  took  little  note  of  his  lack  of  fitness.  He 
touched  the  brandy  bottle  a  little  oftener  than 
usual,  and  left  for  home  earlier ;  but  his  voice 
was  as  cheery  as  ever,  and  we  thought  only  of 
gout.  He  was  taken  with  a  hard  chill  on  his 
way  home,  which  lasted  for  some  time  after  he 

346 


THE  DEATH  OF   SIR  TOM  347 

was  put  to  bed  ;  but  he  would  not  listen  to  the 
requests  of  William  and  the  faithful  cook  that 
the  doctor  be  summoned.  At  last  he  fell  into 
a  heavy  sleep  from  which  it  was  hard  to  rouse 
him,  and  the  servants  followed  their  own  desire 
and  called  Dr.  High.  He  came  as  promptly  as 
possible,  and  did  all  that  could  be  done  for  the 
sick  man. 

A  hurried  examination  convinced  me  that  Dr. 
High's  opinion  of  the  gravity  of  the  case  was 
correct,  and  we  telephoned  at  once  for  a  spe- 
cialist from  the  city,  and  for  a  trained  nurse. 
After  a  short  consultation  with  Dr.  High  I 
reentered  my  friend's  room,  and  I  fear  that  my 
face  gave  me  away,  for  Sir  Tom  said  :  — 

"  Be  a  man,  Williams,  and  tell  the  whole  of 
it." 

"  My  dear  old  man,  this  is  a  tough  proposition, 
but  you  must  buck  up  and  make  a  game  fight. 
We  have  sent  for  Dr.  Jones  and  a  nurse,  and  we 
will  pull  you  through,  sure." 

"  You  will  try,  for  sure,  but  I  reckon  the  call 
has  come  for  me  to  cash  in  me  checks.  When 
that  little  devil  Frost  hit  me  right  and  left  in 
me  chest  last  night,  I  could  see  me  finish ;  and 
I  heard  the  banshee  in  me  sleep,  and  that  means 
much  to  a  Sligo  man." 

"  Not  to  this  Sligo  man,  I  hope,"  said  I,  though 
I  knew  that  we  were  in  deep  waters. 

The  wise  man  and  the  nurse  came  out  on  the 
10.30  train,  the  nurse  bringing  comfort  and  aid, 


348  THE   FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

but  the  physician  neither.  After  thoroughly 
examining  the  patient,  he  simply  confirmed  our 
fears. 

"  Serious  disease  to  overcome,  and  only  scant 
vital  forces;  no  reasonable  ground  for  hope." 

Sir  Tom  gave  me  a  smile  as  I  entered  the 
room  after  parting  from  the  specialist. 

"  I've  discounted  the  verdict,"  said  he,  "  and 
the  foreman  needn't  draw  such  a  long  face.  I've 
had  my  fling,  like  a  true  Irishman,  and  I'm  ready 
to  pay  the  bill.  I  won't  have  to  come  back  for 
anything,  Williams  ;  there's  nothing  due  me  ;  but 
I  must  look  sharp  for  William  and  the  old  girl 
in  the  kitchen,  —  faithful  souls,  —  for  they  will 
be  strangers  in  a  strange  land.  Will  you  send 
for  a  lawyer  ?  " 

The  lawyer  came,  and  a  codicil  to  Sir  Thomas's 
will  made  the  servants  comfortable  for  life.  All 
that  day  and  the  following  night  we  hung  around 
the  sick  bed,  hoping  for  the  favorable  change  that 
never  came.  On  the  morning  of  the  17th  it  was 
evident  that  he  would  not  live  to  see  the  sun  go 
down.  We  had  kept  all  friends  away  from  the 
sick  chamber ;  but  now,  at  his  request,  Polly, 
Jane,  and  Laura  were  summoned,  and  they  came, 
with  blanched  faces  and  tearful  eyes,  to  kiss  the 
brow  and  hold  the  hands  of  this  dear  man.  He 
smiled  with  contentment  on  the  group,  and 
said :  — 

"Me  friends  have  made  such  a  heaven  of  this 
earth  that  perhaps  I  have  had  me  full  share." 


THE  DEATH  OF  SIR  TOM  349 

"  Sir  Tom,"  said  I,  "  shall  I  send  for  a  priest  ?  " 

"  A  priest !  What  could  I  do  with  a  priest  ? 
Me  forebears  were  on  the  Orange  side  of  Boyne 
Water,  and  we  have  never  changed  color." 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  a  clergyman  ?  " 

"No,  no ;  just  the  grip  of  a  friend's  hand  and 
these  angels  around  me.  Asking  pardon  is  not 
me  long  suit,  Williams,  but  perhaps  the  time  has 
come  for  me  to  play  it.  If  the  good  God  will  be 
kind  to  me  I  will  thank  Him,  as  a  gentleman 
should,  and  I  will  take  no  advantage  of  His 
kindness ;  but  if  He  cannot  see  His  way  clear  to 
do  that,  I  will  take  what  is  coming." 

"  Dear  Sir  Tom,"  said  Jane,  with  streaming 
eyes,  "  God  cannot  be  hard  with  you,  who  have 
been  so  good  to  every  one." 

"  If  there's  little  harm  in  me  life,  there's  but 
scant  good,  too ;  I  can't  find  much  credit.  Me 
good  angel  has  had  an  easy  time  of  it,  more's 
the  pity ;  but  Janie,  if  you  love  me,  Le  Bon 
Dieu  will  not  be  hard  on  me.  He  cannot  be 
severe  with  a  poor  Irishman  who  never  stacked 
the  cards,  pulled  a  race,  or  turned  his  back  on 
a  friend,  and  who  is  loved  by  an  angel." 

I  asked  Sir  Tom  what  we  should  do  for  him 
after  he  had  passed  away. 

"  It  would  be  foine  to  sleep  in  the  woods  just 
back  of  Janie's  forge,  where  I  could  hear  the 
click  of  her  hammer  if  the  days  get  lonely ;  but 
there's  a  little  castle,  God  save  the  mark,  out 
from  Sligo.     Me  forebears  are  there,  —  the  lucky 


350  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

ones,  —  and  me  wish  is  to  sleep  with  them  ;  but 
I  doubt  it  can  be." 

"  Indeed  it  can  be,  and  it  shall  be,  too,"  said 
Polly.  "We  will  all  go  with  you,  Sir  Tom, 
when  June  comes,  and  you  shall  sleep  in  your 
own  ground  with  your  own  kin." 

"  I  don't  deserve  it,  Mrs.  Williams,  indeed  I 
don't,  but  I  would  lie  easier  there.  That  sod 
has  known  us  for  a  thousand  years,  and  it's  the 
greenest,  softest,  kindest  sod  in  all  the  world ; 
but  little  I'll  mind  when  the  breath  is  gone.  I'll 
not  be  asking  that  much  of  you." 

"My  dear  old  chap,  we  won't  lose  sight  of  you 
until  that  green  sod  covers  the  stanchest  heart 
that  ever  beat.  Polly  is  right.  We'll  go  with 
you  to  Sligo,  —  all  of  us,  —  Polly  and  Jane  and 
Jack  and  I,  and  Kate  and  the  babies,  too,  if  we 
can  get  them.     You  shall  not  be  lonesome." 

"  Lonesome,  is  it  ?  I'll  be  in  the  best  of  com- 
pany. Me  heart  is  at  rest  from  this  moment, 
and  I'll  wait  patiently  until  I  can  show  you 
Sligo.  This  is  a  fine  country,  Mrs.  Williams, 
and  it  has  given  me  the  truest  friends  in  all  the 
world,  but  the  ground  is  sweet  in  Sligo." 

His  breath  came  fainter  and  faster,  and  we 
could  see  that  it  would  soon  cease.  After  rest- 
ing a  few  minutes,  Sir  Tom  said  :  — 

"Me  lady  Laura,  do  you  mind  that  prayer 
song,  the  second  verse  ?  " 

Laura's  voice  was  sobbing  and  uncertain  as  it 
quavered :  — 


THE  DEATH   OF   SIR  TOM  351 

"  Other  refuge  have  I  none," 

but  it  gained  courage  and  persuasiveness  until  it 
filled  the  room  and  the  heart  of  the  man  with,  — 

"  Cover  my  defenceless  head, 
With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing." 

A  gentle  smile  and  the  relaxing  of  closed  hands 
completed  the  story  of  our  loss,  though  the  real 
weight  of  it  came  days  and  months  later. 

It  was  long  before  we  could  take  up  our  daily 
duties  with  anything  like  the  familiar  happiness. 
Something  had  gone  out  of  our  lives  that  could 
never  be  replaced,  and  only  time  could  salve  the 
wounds.  The  dear  man  who  had  gone  was  no 
friend  to  solemn  faces,  and  living  interests  must 
bury  dead  memories ;  but  it  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore the  click  of  Jane's  hammer  was  heard  in  her 
forge ;  not  until  Laura  had  said,  "  It  will  please 
him,  Jane." 


CHAPTER   LVIII 

BACTERIA 

January,  February,  and  March  passed  with 
more  than  the  usual  snow  and  rain,  —  fully  ten 
inches  of  precipitation ;  but  the  spring  proved 
neither  cold  nor  late.  During  these  three  months 
we  sold  butter  to  the  amount  of  $1283,  and  $747 
worth  of  eggs ;  in  all,  $2030. 

The  ploughs  were  started  in  the  highest  land 
on  the  11th  of  April,  and  were  kept  going  steadily 
until  they  had  turned  over  nearly  280  acres. 

I  decided  to  put  the  whole  of  the  widow's  field 
into  corn,  lots  8,  12,  and  15  (84  acres)  into  oats, 
and  50  acres  of  the  orchards  into  roots  and  sweet 
fodder  corn.  Number  13  was  to  be  sown  with 
buckwheat  as  soon  as  the  rye  was  cut  for  green 
forage.  I  decided  to  raise  more  alfalfa,  for  we 
could  feed  more  to  advantage,  and  it  was  fast 
gaining  favor  in  my  establishment.  It  is  so  pro- 
ductive and  so  nutritious  that  I  wonder  it  is  not 
more  generally  used  by  farmers  who  make  a 
specialty  of  feeding  stock.  It  contains  as  much 
protein  as  most  grains,  and  is  wholesome  and 
highly  palatable  if  properly  cured.  It  should  be 
cut  just  as  it  is  coming  into  flower,  and  should 

352 


BACTEEIA  353 

be  cured  in  the  windrow.  The  leaves  are  the 
most  nutritious  part  of  the  plant,  and  they  are 
apt  to  fall  off  if  the  cutting  be  deferred,  or  if  the 
curing  be  done  carelessly. 

Lot  No.  9  was  to  be  fitted  for  alfalfa  as  soon 
as  the  season  would  permit.  First,  it  must  re- 
ceive a  heavy  dressing  of  manure,  to  be  ploughed 
under.  The  ordinary  plough  was  to  be  followed 
in  this  case  by  a  subsoiler,  to  stir  the  earth  as 
deep  as  possible.  When  the  seed  was  sown,  the 
land  was  to  receive  five  hundred  pounds  an  acre 
of  high-grade  fertilizer,  and  one  hundred  pounds 
an  acre  of  infected  soil. 

The  peculiar  bacterium  that  thrives  on  con- 
genial alfalfa  soil  is  essential  to  the  highest 
development  of  the  plant.  Without  its  presence 
the  grass  fails  in  its  chief  function — the  storing  of 
nitrogen  —  and  makes  but  poor  growth.  When 
the  alfalfa  bacteria  are  abundant,  the  plant  flour- 
ishes and  gathers  nitrogen  in  knobs  and  bunches 
in  its  roots  and  in  the  joints  of  its  stems. 

I  sent  to  a  very  successful  alfalfa  grower  in 
Ohio  for  a  thousand  pounds  of  soil  from  one  of 
his  fields,  to  vaccinate  my  field  with.  This  is 
not  always  necessary,  —  indeed,  it  rarely  is,  for 
alfalfa  seed  usually  carry  enough  bacteria  to  in- 
oculate favorable  soils;  but  I  wished  to  see  if 
this  infected  soil  would  improve  mine.  I  have 
not  been  able  to  discover  any  marked  advantage 
from  its  use ;  the  reason  being  that  my  soil  was 
so  rich  in  humus  and  added  manures  that  the 

2a 


354  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

colonies  of  bacteria  on  the  seeds  were  quite  suf- 
ficient to  infect  the  whole  mass.  Under  less 
favorable  conditions,  artificial  inoculation  is  of 
great  advantage. 

Wonderful  are  the  secrets  of  nature.  The 
infinitely  small  things  seem  to  work  for  us  and 
the  infinitely  large  ones  appear  suited  to  our 
use ;  and  yet,  perhaps,  this  is  all  "  seeming  "  and 
"  appearing."  We  may  ourselves  be  simply  more 
advanced  bacteria,  working  blindly  toward  the 
solution  of  an  infinite  problem  in  which  we  are 
concerned  only  as  means  to  an  end. 

"  Why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud," 
until  it  has  settled  its  relative  position  with  both 
Sirius  and  the  micro-organisms,  or  has  estimated 
its  stature  by  view-points  from  the  bacterial 
world  and  from  the  constellation  of  Lyra.  Until 
we  have  been  able  to  compare  opinions  from 
these  extremes,  if  indeed  they  be  extremes,  we 
cannot  expect  to  make  a  correct  estimate  of  our 
value  in  the  economy  of  the  universe.  I  fancy 
that  we  are  apt  to  take  ourselves  too  seriously, 
and  that  we  will  sometime  marvel  at  the  shadow 
which  we  did  not  cast. 


CHAPTER  LIX 

MATCH-MAKING 

The  home  lot  took  on  a  home  look  in  the 
spring  of  1898.  The  lawn  lost  its  appearance  of 
newness ;  the  trees  became  acquainted  with  each 
other ;  the  shrubs  were  on  intimate  terms  with 
their  neighbors,  and  broke  into  friendly  rivalry 
of  blossoms ;  the  gardens  had  a  settled-down 
look,  as  if  they  had  come  to  stay ;  and  even  the 
wall  flowers  were  enjoying  themselves.  These 
efforts  of  nature  to  make  us  feel  at  ease  were 
thankfully  received  by  Polly  and  me,  and  we  voted 
that  this  was  more  like  home  than  anything  else 
we  had  ever  had ;  and  when  the  fruit  trees  put 
forth  their  promise  of  an  autumn  harvest  in 
great  masses  of  blossoms,  we  declared  that  we 
had  made  no  mistake  in  transforming  ourselves 
from  city  to  country  folk. 

"  Aristocracy  is  of  the  land,"  said  Polly.  "  It 
always  has  been  and  always  will  be  the  source 
of  dignity  and  stability.  I  feel  twice  as  great  a 
lady  as  I  did  in  the  tall  house  on  B Street." 

"  So  you  don't  want  to  go  back  to  that  tall 
house,  madam  ?  " 

« Indeed  I  don't.     Why  should  I  ?  " 
866 


356  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

« I  don't  know  why  you  should,  only  I  remem- 
ber Lot's  wife  looked  back  toward  the  city." 

"  Don't  mention  that  woman !  She  didn't 
know  what  she  wanted.  You  won't  catch  me 
looking  toward  the  city,  except  once  a  week  for 
three  or  four  hours,  and  then  I  hurry  back  to  the 
farm  to  see  what  has  happened  in  my  garden 
while  I've  been  away." 

"  But  how  about  your  friends,  Polly  ?  " 

"  You  know  as  well  as  I  that  we  haven't  lost 
a  friend  by  living  out  here,  and  that  we've  tied 
some  of  them  closer.  No,  sir !  No  more  city 
life  for  me.  It  may  do  for  young  people,  who 
don't  know  better,  but  not  for  me.  It's  too  re- 
stricted, and  there's  not  enough  excitement." 

"  Country  life  fits  us  like  paper  on  the  wall," 
said  I,  "  but  how  about  the  youngsters  ?  If  we 
insist  on  keeping  children,  we  must  take  them 
into  our  scheme  of  life." 

"  Of  course  we  must,  but  children  are  an  un- 
known quantity.  They  are  x  in  the  domestic 
problem,  and  we  cannot  tell  what  they  stand  for 
until  the  problem  is  worked  out.  I  don't  see 
why  we  can't  find  the  value  of  x  in  the  country 
as  easily  as  in  the  city.  They  have  had  city  and 
school  life,  now  let  them  see  country  life ;  the  x 
will  stand  for  wide  experience  at  least." 

"  Jane  likes  it  thus  far,"  said  I,  «  and  I  think 
she  will  continue ;  but  I  don't  feel  so  sure  about 
Jack." 

"  You're  as  blind  as  a  bat  —  or  a  man.     Jane 


MATCH-MAKING  367 

loves  country  life  because  she's  young  and  grow- 
ing ;  but  there's  a  subconscious  sense  which  tells 
her  that  she's  simply  fitting  herself  to  be  carried 
off  by  that  handsome  giant,  Jim  Jarvis.  She 
doesn't  know  it,  but  it's  the  truth  all  the  same, 
and  it  will  come  as  sure  as  tide ;  and  when  it 
does  come,  her  life  will  be  run  into  other  moulds 
than  we  have  made,  no  matter  how  carefully." 

"  I  wonder  where  this  modern  Hercules  is  most 
vulnerable.  I'll  slay  him  if  I  find  him  mousing 
around  my  Jane." 

"You  will  slay  nothing,  Mr.  Headman,  and 
you  know  it ;  you  will  just  take  what's  coming 
to  you,  as  others  have  done  since  the  world  was 
young." 

"Well,  I  give  fair  warning;  it's  « hands  off 
Jane,'  for  lo,  these  many  years,  or  some  one  will 
be  brewing  <  harm  tea '  for  himself." 

"  You  bark  so  loud  no  one  will  believe  you  can 
bite,"  said  this  saucy,  match-making  mother. 

"  How  about  Jack  ?  "  said  I.  "  Have  you  set- 
tled the  moulds  he  is  to  be  run  in  ?  " 

"  Not  entirely ;  but  I  am  not  as  one  without 
hope.  Jack  will  be  through  college  in  June,  and 
will  go  abroad  with  us  for  July  and  August ;  he 
will  be  as  busy  as  possible  with  the  miners  from  the 
moment  he  comes  back ;  he  is  much  in  love  with 
Jessie,  the  Gordon's  have  no  other  child,  the 
property  is  large,  Homestead  Farm  is  only  three 
miles,  and  —  " 

"  Slow  up,  Polly  !    Slow  up  !     Your  main  line 


358  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

is  all  right,  but  your  terminal  facilities  are  bad. 
Jack  is  to  be  educated,  travelled,  employed,  en- 
gaged, married,  endowed  with  Homestead  Farm, 
and  all  that ;  but  you  mustn't  kill  off  the  Gordons. 
I  swing  the  red  lantern  in  front  of  that  train  of 
thought.  Let  Jack  and  Jessie  wait  till  we  are 
through  with  Four  Oaks  and  the  Gordons  have 
no  further  use  for  Homestead  Farm,  before  think- 
ing of  coupling  that  property  on  to  this." 

"  Don't  be  a  greater  goose  than  you  can  help," 
said  Polly.  "  You  know  what  I  mean.  Men  are 
so  short-sighted !  Laura  says,  *  the  Headman 
ought  to  have  a  small  dog  and  a  long  stick  ' ;  but 
no  matter,  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  the  children,  and 
you  needn't  worry  about  country  life  for  them. 
They'll  take  to  it  kindly." 

«  Well,  they  ought  to,  if  they  have  any  appre- 
ciation of  the  fitness  of  things.  Did  you  ever 
see  weather  made  to  order  before  ?  I  feel  as  if 
I  had  been  measured  for  it." 

"  It  suits  my  garden  down  to  the  ground,"  said 
Polly,  who  hates  slang. 

"  It  was  planned  for  the  farmer,  madam.  If 
it  happens  to  fit  the  rose-garden  mistress,  it  is 
a  detail  for  you  to  note  and  be  thankful  for,  but 
the  great  things  are  outside  the  rose  gardens. 
Look  at  that  corn-field !  A  crow  could  hide  in 
it  anywhere." 

"  What  have  crows  hiding  got  to  do  with  corn, 
I'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  When  I  was  a  boy  the  farmers  used  to  say, 


MATCH-MAKING  359 

1  If  it  will  cover  a  crow's  back  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  it  will  make  good  corn,'  and  I  am  farmer- 
ing with  old  saws  when  I  can't  find  new  ones." 

"  It's  all  of  three  weeks  yet  to  the  Fourth  of 
July,  and  your  corn  will  cover  a  turkey  by  that 
time." 

"  I  hope  so,  but  we  shan't  be  here  to  see  it, 
more's  the  pity,  as  Sir  Tom  would  say." 

"  Do  you  know,  Kate  says  she  won't  go  over. 
She  doesn't  think  it  would  pay  for  so  short  a 
trip.     Why  do  you  insist  upon  eight  weeks  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  I  like  that !  When  did  I  ever 
insist  on  anything,  Mrs.  Williams  ?  Not  since  I 
knew  you  well,  did  I  ?  But  be  honest,  Polly. 
Who  has  done  the  cutting  down  of  this  trip? 
You  and  the  youngsters  may  stay  as  long  as  you 
please,  but  I  will  be  back  here  September  1st 
unless  the  Norracmia  breaks  a  shaft." 

"  I  wish  we  could  go  over  on  a  German  boat. 
I  hate  the  Cunarders." 

"  So  do  I,  but  we  must  land  at  Queenstown. 
We  must  put  Sir. Tom  under  the  sod  at  that 
little  castle  out  from  Sligo.  Then  we  can  do 
Holland  and  Belgium,  and  have  a  week  or  ten 
days  in  London." 

"  That  will  be  enough.  I  do  hope  Johnson  will 
take  good  care  of  my  flowers ;  it's  the  very  most 
important  time,  you  know,  and  if  he  neglects 
them  —  " 

"He  won't  neglect  them,  Polly;  even  if  he 
does,  they  can  be  easily  replaced.     But  the  hay 


360  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

harvest,  now,  that's  different ;  if  they  spoil  the 
timothy  or  cut  the  alfalfa  too  late  !  " 

"  Bother  your  alfalfa !  What  do  I  care  for 
that  ?  Kate's  coming  out  with  the  babies,  and 
I'm  going  to  put  her  in  full  charge  of  the  gar- 
dens. She'll  look  after  them,  I'm  sure.  I'll  tell 
you  another  bit  of  news :  Jim  Jarvis  is  bound  to 
go  with  us,  Jack  says,  and  he  has  asked  if  we'll 
let  him." 

"  How  long  have  you  had  that  up  your  sleeve, 
young  woman  ?  I  don't  like  it  a  little  bit ! 
That  is  why  you  talked  so  like  an  oracle  a  little 
while  ago  !     What  does  Jane  say  ?  " 

"She  doesn't  say  much,  but  I  think  she 
wouldn't  object." 

"  Of  course  she  can't  object.  You  sick  a  big 
brute  of  a  man  on  to  a  little  girl,  and  she  don't 
dare  object ;  but  I'll  feed  him  to  the  fishes  if  he 
worries  her." 

"To  be  sure  you  will,  Mr.  Ogre.  Anybody 
would  be  sure  of  that  to  hear  you  talk." 

"Don't  chaff  me,  Polly.  This  is  a  serious 
business.  If  you  sell  my  girl,  I'm  going  to  buy 
a  new  one.  I'll  ask  Jessie  Gordon  to  go  with  us 
and,  if  Jack  is  half  the  man  I  take  him  to  be, 
he'll  replenish  our  stock  of  girls  before  we  get 
back." 

"  Who  is  match-making  now  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  call  it.  I  shall  take 
out  letters  of  marque  and  reprisal.  I  won't 
raise  girls  to  be  carried  off  by  the  first  privateer 


MATCH-MAKING  361 

that  makes  sail  for  them,  without  making  some 
one  else  suffer.  If  Jarvis  goes,  Jessie  goes,  that's 
flat." 

"  I  think  it  will  be  an  excellent  plan,  Mr.  Bad 
Temper,  and  I've  no  doubt  that  we  can  manage 
it." 

"  Don't  say  <  we '  when  you  talk  of  managing 
it.  I  tell  you  I'm  entirely  on  the  defensive  until 
some  one  robs  me,  then  I'll  take  what  is  my  neigh- 
bor's if  I  can  get  it.  If  it  were  not  for  my 
promise  to  Sir  Tom,  I  wouldn't  leave  the  farm 
for  a  minute  !  And  I  would  establish  a  quaran- 
tine against  all  giants  for  at  least  five  years." 

"  You  know  you  like  Jarvis.  He  is  one  of  the 
best." 

"  That's  all  right,  Polly.  He's  as  fine  as  silk, 
but  he  isn't  fine  enough  for  our  Jane  yet." 


CHAPTER   LX 

"I   TOLD    YOU    SO" 

It  may  be  the  limitless  horizon,  it  may  be  the 
comradery  of  confinement,  it  may  be  the  old 
superstition  of  a  plank  between  one  and 
eternity,  or  it  may  be  some  occult  influence  of 
ship  and  ocean ;  but  certain  it  is  that  there  is  no 
such  place  in  all  the  world  as  a  deck  of  a  trans- 
atlantic liner  for  softening  young  hearts,  until 
they  lose  all  semblance  of  shape,  and  for  melting 
them  into  each  other  so  that  out  of  twain  there 
comes  but  one.  I  think  Polly  was  pleased  to 
watch  this  melting  process,  as  it  began  to  show 
itself  in  our  young  people,  from  the  safe  retreat 
of  her  steamer  chair  and  behind  the  covers  of  her 
book.  I  couldn't  find  that  she  read  two  chapters 
from  any  book  during  the  whole  voyage,  or  that 
she  was  miserable  or  discontented.  She  just 
watched  with  a  comfortable  "  I  told  you  so " 
expression  of  countenance ;  and  she  never  men- 
tioned home  lot  or  garden  or  roses,  from  dock 
to  dock. 

It  is  as  natural  for  a  woman  to  make  matches 
as  for  a  robin  to  build  nests,  and  I  suppose  I  had 
as  much  right  to  find  fault  with  the  one  as  with 

362 


"I  TOLD   YOU   SO"  363 

the  other.  I  did  not  find  fault  with  her,  but 
neither  could  I  understand  her ;  so  I  fretted  and 
fumed  and  smoked,  and  walked  the  deck  and 
bet  on  everything  in  sight  and  out  of  sight,  until 
the  soothing  influence  of  the  sea  took  hold  of  me, 
and  then  I  drifted  like  the  rest  of  them. 

No,  I  will  not  say  "  like  the  rest  of  them,"  for 
I  could  not  forgive  this  waste  of  space  given  over 
to  water.  In  other  crossings  I  had  not  noted 
the  conspicuous  waste  with  any  feeling  of  loss 
or  regret ;  but  other  crossings  had  been  made 
before  I  knew  the  value  of  land.  I  could  not  get 
away  from  the  thought  that  it  would  add  much 
to  the  wealth  of  the  world  if  the  mountains  were 
removed  and  cast  into  the  sea.  Not  only  that, 
but  it  would  curb  to  some  extent  the  ragings  of 
this  same  turbulent  sea,  which  was  rolling  and 
tossing  us  about  for  no  really  good  reason  that  I 
could  discover.  The  Atlantic  had  lost  much  of 
its  romance  and  mystery  for  me,  and  I  wondered 
if  I  had  ever  felt  the  enthusiasm  which  I  heard 
expressed  on  all  sides. 

"  There  she  spouts ! "  came  from  a  dozen  voices, 
and  the  whole  passenger  list  crowded  the  port 
rail,  just  to  see  a  cow  whale  throwing  up  streams 
of  water,  not  immensely  larger  than  the  streams 
of  milk  which  my  cow  Holsteins  throw  down. 
The  crowd  seemed  to  take  great  pleasure  in  this 
sight,  but  to  me  it  was  profitless. 

I  have  known  the  day  when  I  could  watch 
the  graceful  leaps  and  dives  of  a  school  of  por- 


364  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

poises,  as  it  kept  with  easy  fin,  alongside  of  our 
ocean  greyhound,  with  pleasure  unalloyed  by 
any  feeling  of  non-utility.  But  now  these  "  hogs 
of  the  sea  "  reminded  me  of  my  Chester  Whites, 
and  the  comparison  was  so  much  in  favor  of  the 
hogs  of  the  land,  that  I  turned  from  these  spec- 
tacular, useless  things,  to  meditate  upon  the  price 
of  pork.  Even  Mother  Carey's  chickens  gave  me 
no  pleasure,  for  they  reminded  me  of  a  far  better 
brood  at  home,  and  I  cheerfully  thanked  the 
noble  Wyandottes  who  were  working  every  third 
day  so  that  I  could  have  a  trip  to  Europe.  To 
be  sure,  I  had  European  trips  before  I  had  Wy- 
andottes ;  to  have  them  both  the  same  year  was 
the  marvel. 

Before  we  reached  Queenstown,  Jarvis  had 
gained  some  ground  by  twice  picking  me  out  of 
the  scuppers ;  but  as  I  resented  his  steadiness  of 
foot  and  strength  of  hand,  it  was  not  worth  men- 
tioning. I  could  see,  however,  that  these  feats 
were  great  in  Jane's  eyes.  The  double  rescue  of 
a  beloved  parent,  from,  not  exactly  a  watery 
grave,  but  a  damp  scupper,  would  never  be  for- 
gotten. The  giant  let  her  adore  his  manly  strength 
and  beauty,  and  I  could  only  secretly  hope  that 
some  wave  —  tidal  if  necessary  —  would  take 
him  off  his  feet  and  send  him  into  the  scuppers. 
But  he  had  played  football  too  long  to  be  upset 
by  a  watery  wave,  and  I  was  balked  of  my  revenge. 

Jack  and  Jessie  were  rather  a  pleasure  to  me 
than  otherwise.     They  settled  right  down  to  the 


"I  TOLD  YOU  SO"  365 

heart-softening  business  in  such  matter-of-fact 
fashion  that  their  hearts  must  have  lost  contour 
before  the  voyage  was  half  over.  Polly  dismissed 
them  from  her  mind  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction, 
and  I  then  hoped  that  she  would  find  some  time 
to  devote  to  me,  but  I  was  disappointed.  She 
assured  me  that  those  two  were  safely  locked  in 
the  fold,  but  that  she  could  not  "  set  her  mind  at 
rest "  until  the  other  two  were  safe.  After  that 
she  promised  to  take  me  in  hand ;  whether  for 
reward  or  for  punishment  left  me  guessing. 

The  six  and  a  half  days  finally  came  to  an  end, 
and  we  debarked  for  Queenstown.  The  journey 
across  Ireland  was  made  as  quickly  as  slow  trains 
and  a  circuitous  route  would  permit,  and  we 
reached  Sligo  on  the  second  day.  Sir  Thomas's 
agent  met  us,  and  we  drove  at  once  to  the  "  little 
castle  out  from  Sligo."  It  proved  to  be  a  very 
old  little  castle,  four  miles  out,  overlooking  the 
bay.  It  was  low  and  flat,  with  thick  walls  of 
heavy  stone  pierced  by  a  few  small  windows, 
and  a  broad  door  made  of  black  Irish  oak  heavily 
studded  with  iron.  From  one  corner  rose  a 
square  tower,  thirty  feet  or  more  in  height,  cov- 
ered with  wild  vines  that  twined  in  and  out 
through  the  narrow,  unglazed  windows. 

Within  was  a  broad,  low  hall,  from  which 
opened  four  rooms  of  nearly  equal  size.  There 
was  little  evidence  that  the  castle  had  been  in- 
habited during  recent  years,  though  there  was  an 
ancient  woman  care-taker  who  opened  the  great 


366  THE  FAT  OF  THE   LAND 

door  for  us,  and  then  took  up  the  Irish  peasant's 
wail  for  the  last  of  the  O'Haras.  She  never 
ceased  her  crooning  except  when  she  spoke  to 
us,  which  was  seldom  ;  but  she  placed  us  at  table 
in  the  state  dining  room,  and  served  us  with 
stewed  kid,  potatoes,  and  goat's  milk.  The  walls 
of  the  dining  room  were  covered  with  ancient 
pictures  of  the  O'Haras,  but  none  so  recent  as 
a  hundred  years.  We  could  well  believe  Sir 
Tom's  words,  "  the  sod  has  known  us  for  a 
thousand  years,"  when  we  looked  upon  the  score 
of  pictures,  each  of  which  stood  for  at  least  one 
generation. 

The  agent  told  us  that  our  friend  had  never 
lived  at  the  castle,  but  that  he  had  visited  the 
place  as  a  child,  and  again  just  before  leaving 
for  America.  A  wall-enclosed  lot  about  two 
hundred  feet  square  was  "  the  kindest  sod  in  all 
the  world  to  an  O'Hara,"  and  here  we  placed  our 
dear  friend  at  rest  with  the  "  lucky  ones  "  of  his 
race.  No  one  of  the  race  ever  deserved  more 
"  luck  "  than  did  our  Sir  Tom.  The  young  clergy- 
man who  read  the  service  assured  us  that  he  had 
found  it ;  and  our  minds  gave  the  same  evidence, 
and  our  hearts  said  Amen,  as  we  turned  from  his 
peaceful  resting-place  by  the  green  waters  of  Sligo 
Bay. 

Two  days  later  we  were  comfortably  lodged 
at  The  Hague,  from  which  we  intended  to  "  do  " 
the  little  kingdom  of  Holland  by  rail,  by  canal, 
or  on  foot,  as  we  should  elect. 


CHAPTER   LXI 

THE   BELGIAN    PARMER 

Leaving  Holland  with  regret,  we  crossed  the 
Schelde  into  Belgium,  the  cockpit  of  Europe.  It 
is  here  that  one  sees  what  intensive  farming  is 
like.  No  fences  to  occupy  space,  no  animals 
roaming  at  large,  nothing  but  small  strips  of 
land  tilled  to  the  utmost,  chiefly  by  hand.  Little 
machinery  is  used,  and  much  of  the  work  is  done 
after  primitive  fashions ;  but  the  land  is  produc- 
tive, and  it  is  worked  to  the  top  of  its  bent. 

The  peasant-farmer  soils  his  cows,  his  sheep, 
his  swine,  in  a  way  that  is  economical  of  space 
and  food,  if  not  of  labor,  and  manages  to  make 
a  living  and  to  pay  rent  for  his  twenty-acre  strip 
of  land.  His  methods  do  not  appeal  to  the 
American  farmer,  who  wastes  more  grain  and 
forage  each  year  than  would  keep  the  Nether- 
lander, his  family,  and  his  stock ;  but  there  is  a 
lesson  to  be  learned  from  this  subdivision  and 
careful  cultivation  of  land.  Belgian  methods 
prove  that  Mother  Earth  can  care  for  a  great 
many  children  if  she  be  properly  husbanded,  and 
that  the  sooner  we  recognize  her  capacity  the 
better  for  us. 


368  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

Abandoned  farms  are  not  known  in  Belgium 
and  France,  though  the  soil  has  been  cultivated 
for  a  thousand  years,  and  was  originally  no  better 
than  our  New  England  farms,  and  not  nearly  so 
good  as  hundreds  of  those  which  are  practically 
given  over  to    "  old  fields  "  in  Virginia. 

It  is  neglect  that  impoverishes  land,  not  use. 
Intelligent  use  makes  land  better  year  by  year. 
The  only  way  to  wear  out  land  is  to  starve  and 
to  rob  it  at  the  same  time.  Food  for  man  and 
beast  may  be  taken  from  the  soil  for  thousands 
of  years  without  depleting  it.  All  it  asks  in  re- 
turn is  the  refuse,  carefully  saved,  properly  ap- 
plied, and  thoroughly  worked  in  to  make  it 
available.  If,  in  addition  to  this,  a  cover  crop 
of  some  leguminous  plant  be  occasionally  turned 
under,  the  soil  may  actually  increase  in  fertility, 
though  it  be  heavily  cropped  each  year. 

It  would  pay  the  young  American  farmer  to 
study  Belgian  methods,  crude  though  they  are, 
for  the  insight  he  could  gain  into  the  possibilities 
of  continuous  production.  The  greatest  number 
of  people  to  the  square  mile  in  the  inhabited 
globe  live  in  this  little,  ill-conditioned  kingdom, 
and  most  of  them  get  their  living  from  the  soil. 
It  has  been  the  battle-field  of  Europe :  a  thousand 
armies  have  harrowed  it ;  human  blood  has 
drenched  it  from  Liege  to  Ostend ;  it  has  been 
depopulated  again  and  again.  But  it  springs  into 
new  life  after  each  catastrophe,  simply  because 
the  soil  is  prolific  of  farmers,  and  they  cannot  be 


THE  BELGIAN  FARMER  369 

kept  down.  Like  the  poppies  on  the  field  of 
Waterloo,  which  renew  the  blood-red  strife  each 
year,  the  Belgian  peasant-farmer  springs  new- 
born from  the  soil,  which  is  the  only  mother  he 
knows. 

After  two  weeks  in  Holland,  two  in  Belgium, 
and  two  in  London,  we  were  ready  to  turn  our 
faces  toward  home. 

We  took  the  train  to  Southampton,  and  a  small 
side-wheel  steamer  carried  us  outside  Southamp- 
ton waters,  where  we  tossed  about  for  thirty  min- 
utes before  the  Normcmia  came  to  anchor.  The 
wind  was  blowing  half  a  gale  from  the  north, 
and  we  were  glad  to  get  under  the  lee  of  the  great 
vessel  to  board  her. 

The  transfer  was  quickly  made,  and  we  were 
off  for  New  York.  The  wind  gained  strength  as 
the  day  grew  old,  but  while  we  were  in  the  So- 
lent the  bluff  coast  of  Devon  and  Cornwall  broke 
its  force  sufficiently  to  permit  us  to  be  comfort- 
able on  the  port  side  of  the  ship. 

As  night  came  on,  great  clouds  rolled  up  from 
the  northwest  and  the  wind  increased.  Darkness, 
as  of  Egypt,  fell  upon  us  before  we  passed  the 
Lizard,  and  the  only  things  that  showed  above 
the  raging  waters  were  the  beacon  lights,  and 
these  looked  dim  and  far  away.  Occasionally  a 
flash  of  lightning  threw  the  waters  into  relief, 
and  then  made  the  darkness  more  impenetrable. 
As  we  steamed  beyond  the  Lizard  and  the  pro- 
tecting Cornish  coast,  the  full  force  of  the  gale, 

2b 


370  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

from  out  the  Irish  Sea,  struck  us.  We  were  go- 
ing nearly  with  it,  and  the  good  ship  pitched  and 
reared  like  an  angry  horse,  but  did  not  roll  much. 
Pitching  is  harder  to  bear  than  rolling,  and  the 
decks  were  quickly  vacated. 

I  turned  into  my  stateroom  soon  after  ten 
o'clock,  and  then  happened  a  thing  which  will 
hold  a  place  in  my  memory  so  long  as  I  have 
one.  I  did  not  feel  sleepy,  but  I  was  nervous, 
restless,  and  half  sick.  I  lay  on  my  lounge  for 
perhaps  half  an  hour,  and  then  felt  impelled  to 
go  on  deck.  I  wrapped  myself  in  a  great  water- 
proof ulster,  pulled  my  storm  cap  over  my  ears, 
and  climbed  the  companionway.  Two  or  three 
electric  bulbs  in  sheltered  places  on  deck  only 
served  to  make  the  darkness  more  intense.  I 
crawled  forward  of  the  ladies'  cabin,  and,  sup- 
porting myself  against  the  donkey-engine,  peered 
at  the  light  above  the  crow's-nest  and  tried  to 
think  that  I  could  see  the  man  on  watch  in  the 
nest.  I  did  see  him  for  an  instant,  when  the 
next  flash  of  lightning  came,  and  also  two  officers 
on  the  bridge ;  and  I  knew  that  Captain  Bahrens 
was  in  the  chart  house.  When  the  next  flash 
came,  I  saw  the  other  lookout  man  making  his 
short  turns  on  the  narrow  space  of  bow  deck, 
and  was  tempted  to  join  him ;  why,  I  do  not 
know.  I  crept  past  the  donkey-engine,  holding 
fast  to  it  as  I  went,  until  I  reached  the  iron  gate 
that  closes  the  narrow  passage  to  the  bow  deck. 
With  two  silver  dollars  in  my  teeth  I  staggered 


THE  BELGIAH  FARMER  371 

across  this  rail-guarded  plank,  and  when  the  next 
flash  came  I  was  sitting  at  the  feet  of  the  look- 
out man  with  the  two  silver  dollars  in  my  out- 
stretched hand.  He  took  the  money,  and  let  me 
crawl  forward  between  the  anchors  and  the  high 
bulwark  of  the  bows. 

The  sensations  which  this  position  gave  me 
were  strange  beyond  description.  Darkness  was 
thick  around  me ;  at  one  moment  I  was  carried 
upward  until  I  felt  that  I  should  be  lost  in  the 
black  sky,  and  the  next  moment  the  downward 
motion  was  so  terrible  that  the  blacker  water  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea  seemed  near.  I  cannot 
say  that  I  enjoyed  it,  but  I  could  not  give 
it  up. 

When  the  great  bow  rose,  I  stood  up,  and, 
looking  over  the  bulwark,  tried  to  see  either  sky 
or  water,  but  tried  in  vain,  save  when  the  light- 
ning revealed  them  both.  When  the  bow  fell,  I 
crouched  under  the  bulwark  and  let  the  sea  comb 
over  me.  How  long  I  remained  at  this  weird 
post,  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  was  driven  from  it 
in  such  terror  as  I  hope  never  to  feel  again. 

An  unusually  large  wave  carried  me  nearer  the 
sky  than  I  liked  to  be,  and  just  as  the  sharp  bow 
of  the  great  iron  ship  was  balancing  on  its  crest 
for  the  desperate  plunge,  a  glare  of  lightning 
made  sky  and  sea  like  a  sheet  of  flame  and 
curdled  the  blood  in  my  veins.  In  the  trough 
of  the  sea,  under  the  very  foot  of  the  immense 
steamship,  lay  a  delicate  pleasure-boat,  with  its 


372  THE  PAT  OF  THE  LAND 

mast  broken  flush  with  its  deck,  and  its  helpless 
body  the  sport  of  the  cruel  waves. 

The  light  did  not  last  longer  than  it  would  take 
me  to  count  five,  but  in  that  time  I  saw  four 
figures  that  will  always  haunt  me.  Two  sailors 
in  yachting  costume  were  struggling  hopelessly 
with  the  tiller,  and  the  wild  terror  of  their  faces 
as  they  saw  the  huge  destruction  that  hung  over 
them  is  simply  unforgettable. 

The  other  two  were  different.  A  strong,  blond 
man,  young,  handsome,  and  brave  I  know,  stood 
bareheaded  in  front  of  the  cockpit.  With  a  sud- 
den, vehement  motion  he  drew  the  head  of  a  girl 
to  his  breast  and  held  it  there  as  if  to  shut  out 
the  horrible  world.  There  was  no  fear  in  his 
face,  — just  pain  and  distress  that  he  was  unable 
to  do  more.  I  am  thankful  that  I  did  not  see 
the  face  of  the  girl.  Her  brown  hair  has  floated 
in  my  dreams  until  I  have  cried  out  for  help ; 
what  would  her  face  have  done  ? 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  it  was  over.  I  heard 
a  sound  as  when  one  breaks  an  egg  on  the  edge 
of  a  cup,  —  no  more.  I  screamed  with  horror, 
ran  across  the  guarded  plank,  climbed  the  gate, 
and  fell  headlong  and  screaming  over  the  donkey- 
engine.     Picking  up  my  battered  self,  I  shouted: 

"  Bahrens  !  Bahrens  !  for  God's  sake,  help  ! 
Man  overboard  !     Stop  the  ship  ! " 

I  reached  the  ladder  to  the  bridge  just  as  the 
captain  came  out  of  the  chart  house. 

"  For  God's  sake,  stop  the  ship  !     You've  run 


THE  BELGIAN  EAEMER  373 

down  a  boat  with  four  people !  Stop  her,  can't 
you ! " 

"  It  can't  be  done,  man.  If  we've  run  down 
a  boat,  it's  all  over  with  it  and  all  in  it.  I  can't 
risk  a  thousand  lives  without  hope  of  saving  one. 
This  is  a  gale,  Doctor,  and  we  have  our  hands 
full." 

I  turned  from  him  in  horror  and  despair.  I 
stumbled  to  my  stateroom,  dropped  my  wet 
clothing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  knew 
no  more  until  the  trumpet  called  for  breakfast. 
The  rush  of  green  waters  was  pounding  at  my 
porthole ;  the  experience  of  the  night  came 
back  to  me  with  horror;  the  reek  of  my  wet 
clothes  sickened  my  heart,  and  I  rang  for  the 
steward. 

"Take  these  things  away,  Gustav,  and  don't 
bring  them  back  until  they  are  dry  and  pressed." 

"  What  things  does  the  Herr  Doctor  speak 
for  ?  " 

"  The  wet  things  there  on  the  floor." 

"Excuse  me,  but  I  have  seen  no  things 
wet." 

"  You  Dutch  chump ! "  said  I,  half  rising, 
"  what  do  you  mean  by  saying  —  Well,  I'll  be 
damned ! "  There  were  my  clothes,  dry  and 
folded,  on  the  couch,  and  my  ulster  and  cap  on 
their  hook,  without  evidence  of  moisture  or  use. 

"Gustav,  remind  me  to  give  you  three  rix- 
dollars  at  breakfast." 

"  Danke,  Herr  Doctor." 


374  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

Of  such  stuff  are  dreams  made.  But  I  will 
know  those  terror-stricken  sailors  if  I  do  not 
see  them  for  a  hundred  years ;  and  I  am  glad 
the  dark-haired  girl  did  not  realize  the  horror, 
but  simply  knew  that  the  man  loved  her ;  and 
I  often  think  of  the  man  who  did  the  nice  thing 
when  no  one  was  looking,  and  whose  face  was 
not  terrorized  by  the  crack  of  doom. 


CHAPTER   LXII 

HOME-COMING 

Even  Polly  was  satisfied  with  our  young 
people  before  we  entered  New  York  Bay.  If 
anything  in  their  "  left  pulmonaries "  had  re- 
mained unsoftened  during  the  voyage  out  and 
the  comradery  of  the  Netherlands,  it  was  melted 
into  non-resistance  by  the  homeward  trip.  I 
could  not  long  hold  out  against  the  evidence  of 
happiness  that  surrounded  me,  and  I  gave  a  half- 
grudging  consent  that  Jarvis  and  Jane  might  play 
together  for  the  next  three  or  four  years,  if  they 
would  not  ask  to  play  "  for  keeps "  until  those 
years  had  passed.  They  readily  gave  the  promise, 
but  every  one  knows  how  such  promises  are  kept. 
The  children  wore  me  out  in  time,  as  all  children 
do  in  all  kinds  of  ways,  and  got  their  own  ways 
in  less  than  half  the  contract  period.  I  cannot 
put  my  finger  on  any  punishment  that  has  be- 
fallen them  for  this  lack  of  filial  consideration, 
and  I  am  fifteen-sixteenths  reconciled. 

I  was  downright  glad  that  Jack  «  made  good  " 
with  Jessie  Gordon.  She  was  the  sort  of  girl 
to  get  out  the  best  that  was  in  him,  and  I  was 
glad  to  have  her  begin  early.     Try  as  I  might,  I 

875 


376  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

could  not  feel  unhappy  that  beautiful  September 
morning  as  we  steamed  up  the  finest  waterway 
to  the  finest  city  in  the  world.  Deny  it  who 
will,  I  claim  that  our  Empire  City  and  its  en- 
vironments make  the  most  impressive  human 
show.  There  is  more  life,  vigor,  utility,  gor- 
geousness  about  it  than  can  be  found  anywhere 
else ;  and  it  has  the  snap  and  elasticity  of  youth, 
which  are  so  attractive.  No  man  who  claims 
the  privilege  of  American  citizenship  can  sail  up 
New  York  Bay  without  feeling  pride  in  his 
country  and  satisfaction  in  his  birthright.  One 
doesn't  disparage  other  cities  and  other  countries 
when  he  claims  that  his  own  is  the  best. 

We  were  not  specially  badly  treated  at  the 
custom-house, — no  worse,  indeed,  than  smugglers, 
thieves,  or  pirates  would  have  been ;  and  we  es- 
caped, after  some  hours  of  confinement,  without 
loss  of  life  or  baggage,  but  with  considerable 
loss  of  dignity.  How  can  a  self-respecting, 
middle-aged  man  (to  be  polite  to  myself)  stand 
for  hours  in  a  crowded  shed,  or  lean  against  a 
dirty  post,  or  sit  on  the  sharp  edge  of  his  open 
trunk,  waiting  for  a  Superior  Being  with  a  gilt 
band  around  his  hat,  without  losing  some  modi- 
cum of  dignity  ?  And  how,  when  this  Superior 
Being  calls  his  number  and  kicks  his  trunk,  is 
he.  to  know  that  he  is  a  free-born  American 
citizen  and  a  lineal  descendant  of  Roger  Will- 
iams? The  evidence  is  entirely  from  within. 
How  is  he  to  support  a  countenance  and  mien 


HOME-COMING  377 

of  dignity  while  the  secrets  of  his  chest  are  laid 
bare  and  the  contents  of  his  trunk  dumped  on 
the  dirty  floor  ?  And  how  must  his  eyes  droop 
and  his  face  take  on  a  hang-dog  look  when  his 
second-best  coat  is  searched  for  diamonds,  and 
his  favorite  (though  worn)  pajamas  punched  for 
pearls. 

There  are  concessions  to  be  made  for  one's 
great  and  glorious  country,  and  the  custom-house 
is  one  of  them.  Perhaps  we  will  do  better 
sometime,  and  perhaps,  though  this  is  unlikely, 
the  customs  inspectors  of  the  future  will  dis- 
guise themselves  as  gentlemen.  We  finally 
passed  the  inquisition,  and,  with  stuffed  trunks 
and  ruffled  spirits,  took  cabs  for  the  station, 
and  were  presently  within  the  protecting  walls 
at  Four  Oaks,  there  to  forget  lost  dignities  in 
the  cultivation  of  land  and  new  ones. 


CHAPTER  LXIII 

AS   HUNDRED    FOLD 

Kate  declared  that  she  had  had  the  time  of 
her  life  during  her  nine  weeks'  stay  at  Four 
Oaks.  "People  here  every  day,  and  the  house 
full  over  Sunday.  We've  kept  the  place  hum- 
ming," said  she,  "and  you  may  be  thankful  if 
you  find  anything  here  but  a  mortgage.  When 
Tom  and  I  get  rich,  we  are  going  to  be  farm 
people." 

"Don't  wait  for  that,  daughter.  Start  your 
country  home  early  and  let  it  grow  up  with  the 
children.  It  doesn't  take  much  money  to  buy 
the  land  and  to  get  fruit  trees  started.  If  Tom 
will  give  it  his  care  for  three  hours  a  week,  he 
will  make  it  at  least  pay  interest  and  taxes,  and 
it  will  grow  in  value  every  year  until  you  are 
ready  to  live  on  it.  Think  how  our  orchards 
would  look  now  if  we  had  started  them  ten 
years  ago !  They  would  be  fit  to  support  an 
average  family." 

"  There,  Dad,  don't  mount  your  hobby  as  soon 
as  ever  you  get  home.  But  we  have  had  a  good 
time  out  here.  Do  you  really  think  farming  is 
all  beer  and  skittles  ?  " 

878 


AN  HUNDRED  FOLD  379 

"  It  has  been  smooth  sailing  for  me  thus  far, 
and  I  believe  it  is  simply  a  business  with  the 
usual  ups  and  downs ;  but  I  mean  to  make  the 
ups  the  feature  in  this  case." 

"  Are  you  really  glad  to  get  back  to  it  ?  Didn't 
you  want  to  stay  longer  ?  " 

"  I  had  a  fine  trip,  and  all  that,  but  I  give  you 
this  for  true ;  I  don't  think  it  would  make  me 
feel  badly  if  I  were  condemned  to  stay  within 
forty  miles  of  this  place  for  the  rest  of  my  life." 

"  I  can't  go  so  far  as  that  with  you,  Dad,  but 
perhaps  I  may  when  I'm  older." 

"  Yes,  age  makes  a  difference.  At  forty  a  man 
is  a  fool  or  a  farmer,  or  both ;  at  fifty  the  pull 
of  the  land  is  mighty  ;  at  sixty  it  has  full  posses- 
sion of  him  ;  at  seventy  it  draws  him  down  with 
other  forces  than  that  which  Newton  discovered, 
and  at  eighty  it  opens  for  him  and  kindly  tucks 
the  sod  around  him.  Mother  Earth  is  no  step- 
mother, but  warm  and  generous  to  all,  and  I 
think  a  fellow  is  lucky  who  comes  to  her  for 
long  years  of  bounty  before  he  is  compelled  to 
seek  her  final  hospitality." 

"  But,  Dad,  we  can't  all  be  farmers." 

"  Of  course  not,  and  there's  the  pity  of  it ;  but 
almost  every  man  can  have  a  plot  of  ground  on 
which  each  year  he  can  grow  some  new  thing,  if 
only  a  radish  or  a  leaf  of  lettuce,  to  add  to  the 
real  wealth  of  the  world.  I  tell  you,  young 
lady,  that  all  wealth  springs  out  of  the  ground. 
You  think  that  riches  are  made  in  Wall  Street, 


380  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

but  they  are  not;  they  are  only  handled  and 
manipulated.  Stop  the  work  of  the  farmer  from 
April  to  October  of  any  year,  and  Wall  Street 
would  be  a  howling  wilderness.  The  Street 
makes  it  easier  to  exchange  a  dozen  eggs  for 
three  spools  of  silk,  or  a  pound  of  butter  for  a 
hat  pin,  but  that's  all ;  it  never  created  half  the 
intrinsic  value  of  twelve  eggs  or  sixteen  ounces 
of  butter.  It's  only  the  farmer  who  is  a  wealth 
producer,  and  it's  high  time  that  he  should  be 
recognized  as  such.  He's  the  husbandman  of  all 
life ;  without  him  the  world  would  be  depopu- 
lated in  three  years.  You  don't  half  appreciate 
the  profession  which  your  Dad  has  taken  up  in 
his  old  age." 

"  That  sounds  all  right,  but  I  don't  think  the 
farmer  would  recognize  himself  from  that  de- 
scription. He  doesn't  live  up  to  his  possibili- 
ties, does  he  ?  " 

"Mighty  few  people  do.  A  farmer  may  be 
what  he  chooses  to  be.  He's  under  no  greater 
limitations  than  a  business  or  a  professional 
man.  If  he  be  content  to  use  his  muscle 
blindly,  he  will  probably  fall  under  his  own 
harrow.  So,  too,  would  the  merchant  or  the 
lawyer  who  failed  to  use  his  intelligence  in  his 
business.  The  farmer  who  cultivates  his  mind 
as  well  as  his  land,  uses  his  pencil  as  often  as  his 
plough,  and  mixes  brains  with  brawn,  will  not 
fall  under  his  own  harrow  or  any  other  man's. 
He  will  never  be  the  drudge  of  soil  or  of  season. 


AN  HUNDRED  FOLD  381 

for  to  a  large  extent  he  can  control  the  soil  and 
discount  the  season.  No  other  following  gives 
such  opportunity  for  independence  and  self- 
balance." 

"Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to  become  a 
farmer,"  said  Kate,  as  we  left  the  porch,  where  I 
had  been  admiring  my  land  while  I  lectured  on 
the  advantages  of  husbandry. 

Polly  came  out  of  the  rose  garden,  where  she 
had  been  examining  her  flowers  and  setting  her 
watch,  and  said  :  — 

"  Kate,  you  and  the  grand-girls  must  stay  this 
month  out,  anyway.  It  seems  an  age  since  we 
saw  you  last." 

"  All  right,  if  Dad  will  agree  not  to  fire  farm 
fancies  and  figures  at  me  every  time  he  catches 
me  in  an  easy-chair." 

"  I'll  promise,  but  you  don't  know  what  you're 
missing." 

Four  Oaks  looked  great,  and  I  was  tempted 
to  tramp  over  every  acre  of  it,  saying  to  each, 
"  You  are  mine " ;  but  first  I  had  a  little  talk 
with  Thompson. 

"  Everything  has  been  greased  for  us  this  sum- 
mer," said  Thompson.  "  We  got  a  bumper  crop 
of  hay,  and  the  oats  and  corn  are  fine !  I  allow 
you've  got  fifty-five  bushels  of  oats  to  the  acre  in 
those  shocks,  and  the  corn  looks  like  it  stood  for 
more  than  seventy.  We  sold  nine  more  calves 
the  end  of  June,  for  $104.  Mr.  Tom  must  have 
a  lot  of  money  for  you,  for  in  August  we  sold 


382  THE  FAT   OF  THE  LAND 

the  finest  bunch  of  shoates  you  ever  saw,  —  312 
of  them.  They  were  not  extra  heavy,  but  they 
were  fine  as  silk.  Mr.  Tom  said  they  netted 
$4.15  per  hundred,  and  they  averaged  a  little  over 
260  pounds.  I  went  down  with  them,  and  the 
buyers  tumbled  over  each  other  to  get  them.  I 
was  mighty  proud  of  the  bunch,  and  brought 
back  a  check  for  $3407." 

"  Good  for  you,  Thompson !  That's  the  best 
sale  yet." 

"  Some  of  the  heifers  will  be  coming  in  the 
last  of  this  month  or  the  first  of  next.  Don't 
you  want  to  get  rid  of  those  five  scrub  cows  ?  " 

"  Better  wait  six  weeks,  and  then  you  may  sell 
them.  Do  you  know  where  you  can  place 
them  ?  " 

"  Jackson  was  looking  at  them  a  few  days  ago, 
and  said  he  would  give  $35  apiece  for  them ; 
but  they  are  worth  more." 

"Not  for  us,  Thompson,  and  not  for  him, 
either,  if  he  saw  things  just  right.  They're  good 
for  scrubs ;  but  they  don't  pay  well  enough  for 
us,  and  if  he  wants  them  he  can  have  them  at 
that  price  about  the  middle  of  October." 

The  credit  account  for  the  second  quarter  of 
1898  stood:  — 

23  calves         .        .        .       .        .       •      $270.00 

Eggs 637.00 

Butter 1314.00 

Total $2221.00 


CHAPTER  LXIV 

COMFORT   ME   WITH   APPLES 

September  added  a  new  item  to  our  list  of 
articles  sold  ;  small,  indeed,  but  the  beginning  of 
the  fourth  and  last  product  of  our  factory  farm, 
—  fruit  from  our  newly  planted  orchards.  The 
three  hundred  plum  trees  in  the  chicken  runs 
gave  a  moderate  supply  for  the  colony,  and  the 
dwarf-pear  trees  yielded  a  small  crop ;  but  these 
were  hardly  included  in  our  scheme.  I  expected 
to  be  able,  by  and  by,  to  sell  $200  or  1300  worth 
of  plums ;  but  the  chief  income  from  fruit  would 
come  from  the  fifty  acres  of  young  apple 
orchards. 

I  hope  to  live  to  see  the  time  when  these 
young  orchards  will  bring  me  at  least  $5  a 
year  for  each  tree ;  and  if  I  round  out  my  expect- 
ancy (as  the  life-insurance  people  figure  it),  I  may 
see  them  do  much  better.  In  the  interim  the 
day  of  small  things  must  not  be  despised.  In 
our  climate  the  Yellow  Transparent  and  the 
Duchess  do  not  ripen  until  early  September,  and 
I  was  therefore  at  home  in  time  to  gather  and 
market  the  little  crop  from  my  six  hundred  trees. 
The  apples  were  carefully  picked,  for  they  do  not 

383 


384  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

bear  handling  well,  and  the  perfect  ones  were 
placed  in  half-bushel  boxes  and  sent  to  my  city 
grocer.  Not  one  defective  apple  was  packed,  for 
I  was  determined  that  the  Four  Oaks  stencil 
should  be  as  favorably  known  for  fruit  as  for 
other  products. 

The  grocer  allowed  me  fifty  cents  a  box. 
"The  market  is  glutted  with  apples,  but  not 
your  kind,"  said  he.  "  Can  you  send  more  ?  " 
I  could  not  send  more,  for  my  young  trees  had 
done  their  best  in  producing  ninety-six  boxes  of 
perfect  fruit.  Boxes  and  transportation  came  to 
ten  cents  for  each  box,  and  I  received  $38  for 
my  first  shipment  of  fruit. 

I  cannot  remember  any  small  sum  of  money 
that  ever  pleased  me  more,  —  except  the  $28 
which  I  earned  by  seven  months  of  labor  in  my 
fourteenth  year ;  for  it  was  "  first  fruits  "  of  the 
last  of  our  interlacing  industries. 

Thirty-eight  dollars  divided  among  my  trees 
would  give  one  cent  to  each ;  but  four  years  later 
these  orchards  gave  net  returns  of  ninety  cents 
for  each  tree,  and  in  four  years  from  now  they 
will  bring  more  than  twice  that  amount.  At 
twelve  years  of  age  they  will  bring  an  annual 
income  of  $3  each,  and  this  income  will  steadily 
increase  for  ten  or  fifteen  years.  At  the  time  of 
writing,  February,  1903,  they  are  good  for  $1  a 
year,  which  is  five  per  cent  of  $20. 

Would  I  take  $20  apiece  for  these  trees  ?  Not 
much,  though  that  would   mean  $70,000/   I  do 


COMFORT  ME  WITH  APPLES  385 

not  know  where  I  could  place  $70,000  so  that  it 
would  pay  five  per  cent  this  year,  six  per  cent 
next  year,  and  twenty  per  cent  eight  or  ten  years 
from  now.  Of  course,  $70,000  would  be  an  ex- 
orbitant price  to  pay  for  an  orchard  like  mine ; 
but  it  must  be  remembered  that  I  am  old  and 
cannot  wait  for  trees  to  grow. 

If  a  man  will  buy  land  at  $50  or  $60  an  acre, 
plant  it  to  apple  trees  (not  less  than  sixty-five  to 
the  acre),  and  bring  these  trees  to  an  age  when 
they  will  produce  fruit  to  the  value  of  $1.50  each, 
they  will  not  have  cost  more  than  $1.50  per  tree 
for  the  land,  the  trees,  and  the  labor. 

I  am  too  old  to  begin  over  again,  and  I  wish 
to  see  a  handsome  income  from  my  experiment 
before  my  eyes  are  dim  ;  but  why  on  earth  young 
men  do  not  take  to  this  kind  of  investment  is 
more  than  I  can  see.  It  is  as  safe  as  govern- 
ment bonds,  and  infinitely  safer  than  most  mer- 
cantile ventures.  It  is  a  dignified  employment, 
free  from  the  ordinary  risks  of  business ;  and  it 
is  not  likely  to  be  overdone.  All  one  needs  is 
energy,  a  little  money,  and  a  good  bit  of  well- 
directed  intelligence.  This  combination  is  com- 
mon enough  to  double  our  rural  population, 
relieve  the  congestion  in  trades  and  underpaid 
employments,  and  add  immensely  to  the  wealth 
of  the  country.  If  we  can  only  get  the  people 
headed  for  the  land,  it  will  do  much  toward 
solving  the  vexing  labor  problems,  and  will  draw 
the  teeth  of  the  communists  and  the  anarchists ; 

2c 


386 


THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 


for  no  one  is  so  willing  to  divide  as  he  who  can- 
not lose  by  division.  To  the  man  who  has  a 
plot  of  ground  which  he  calls  his  own,  division 
doesn't  appeal  with  any  but  negative  force. 
Neither  should  it,  until  all  available  lands  are 
occupied.  Then  he  must  move  up  and  make 
room  for  another  man  by  his  side. 

The  sales  for  the  quarter   ending  September 
30  were  as  follows :  — 


96  half-bushel  boxes  of  apples       . 

$38.00 

9  calves  

104.00 

Eggs 

543.00 

Butter    ...... 

.      1293.00 

Hogs      ...... 

.      3407.00 

Total 

.    $5385.00 

This  was  the  best  total  for  any  three  months 
up  to  date,  and  it  made  me  feel  that  I  was  get- 
ting pretty  nearly  out  of  the  woods,  so  far  as 
increasing  my  investment  went. 

Including  my  new  hog-house  and  ten  thou- 
sand bushels  of  purchased  grain,  the  investment, 
thought  I,  must  represent  quite  a  little  more  than 
$100,000,  and  I  hoped  not  to  go  much  beyond 
that  sum,  for  Polly  looked  serious  when  I  talked 
of  six  figures,  though  she  was  reconciled  to  any 
amount  which  could  be  stated  in  five. 

My  buildings  were  all  finished,  and  were  good 
for  many  years;  and  if  they  burned,  the  insur- 
ance would  practically  replace  them.  My  gran- 
ary was  full  enough  of  oats  and  corn  to  provide 
for  deficits  of  years  to  come ;  and  my  flocks  and 


COMFORT  ME  WITH  APPLES  387 

herds  were  now  at  their  maximum,  since  Sam 
had  turned  more  than  eight  hundred  pullets  into 
the  laying  pens.  I  began  to  feel  that  the  factory 
would  soon  begin  to  run  full  time  and  to  make 
material  returns  for  its  equipment.  It  would,  of 
course,  be  several  years  before  the  fruit  would 
make  much  showing,  but  I  am  a  patient  man, 
and  could  wait. 


CHAPTER  LXV 

THE  END  OF  THE  THIRD  YEAR 

"Polly,"  said  I,  on  the  evening  of  Decem- 
ber 31,  "let's  settle  the  accounts  for  the  year, 
and  see  how  much  we  must  credit  to  'experi- 
ence '  to  make  the  figures  balance." 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  credit  anything  to  health, 
and  good  times  generally?  If  not,  you  don't 
play  fair." 

"  We'll  keep  those  things  in  reserve,  to  spring 
on  the  enemy  at  a  critical  moment;  perhaps 
they  won't  be  needed." 

"  I  fancy  you  will  have  to  bring  all  your  re- 
serves into  action  this  time,  Mr.  Headman,  for 
you  promised  to  make  a  good  showing  at  the 
end  of  the  third  year." 

"  Well,  so  I  will ;  at  least,  according  to  my 
own  estimate ;  but  others  may  not  see  it  as 
I  do." 

"  Don't  let  others  see  it  at  all,  then.  The  ex- 
periment is  yours,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  us ;  but  it's  more  than  a  personal 
matter.  I  want  to  prove  that  a  factory  farm  is 
sound  in  theory  and  safe  in  practice,  and  that  it 
will  fit  the  needs  of  a  whole  lot  of  farmers." 

388 


THE  END   OF  THE  THIRD  YEAR  389 

"  I  hardly  think  that  «  a  whole  lot  of  farmers,' 
or  of  any  other  kind  of  people,  will  put  1100,000 
into  a  farm  on  any  terms.  Don't  you  think 
you've  been  a  little  extravagant  ?  " 

"Only  on  the  home  forty,  Polly.  I  will  ex- 
pound this  matter  to  you  some  time  until  you 
fall  asleep,  but  not  to-day.  We  have  other  busi- 
ness on  hand.  I  want  to  give  you  this  warning 
to  begin  with :  you  are  not  to  jump  to  a  conclu- 
sion or  on  to  my  figures  until  you  have  fairly  con- 
sidered two  items  which  enter  into  this  year's 
expense  account.  I've  built  an  extra  hog-house 
and  have  bought  ten  thousand  bushels  of  grain, 
at  a  total  expense  of  about  $6000.  Neither  of 
these  items  was  really  needed  this  year;  but 
as  they  are  our  insurance  against  disease  and 
famine,  I  secured  them  early  and  at  low  prices. 
They  won't  appear  in  the  expense  account  again, 
—  at  least,  not  for  many  years,  —  and  they  give 
me  a  sense  of  security  that  is  mighty  comforting." 

"  But  what  if  Anderson  sets  fire  to  your  pig- 
gery, or  lightning  strikes  your  granary,  —  how 
about  the  expense  account  then?" 

"  What  do  you  suppose  fire  insurance  policies 
are  for  ?  To  paper  the  wall  ?  No,  madam,  they 
are  to  pay  for  new  buildings  if  the  old  ones  burn 
up.  I  charge  the  farm  over  $200  a  year  for  this 
security,  and  it's  a  binding  contract." 

«  Well,  I'll  try  and  forget  the  $6000  if  you'll  get 
to  the  figures  at  once." 

"All  right.     First,  let  me  go  over  the  state- 


S9Q 


THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 


meat  for  the  last  quarter  of  the  year.  The  sales 
were :  apples,  from  150  old  trees  at  $3  per  tree, 
$450;  10  calves,  $115;  360  hens  and  500  cock- 
erels, $430 ;  5  cows  (the  common  ones,  to  Jack- 
son) at  $35  each,  $175 ;  eggs,  $827  ;  butter,  $1311 ; 
and  281  hogs,  rushed  to  market  in  December  when 
only  about  eight  months  old  and  sold  for  $3.70 
per  hundred  to  help  swell  this  account,  $2649 ; 
making  a  total  for  the  fourth  quarter  of  $5957. 
"  The  items  of  expense  for  the  year  were :  — 


"  Interest  on  investment 

$5,132.00 

New  hog-house      .        . 

4,220.00 

10,000  bu.  of  grain 

.       2,450.00 

Wages  . 

.       5,322.00 

Food  for  colony    . 

1,640.00 

Food  for  stock 

.       2,155.00 

Seeds  and  fertilizers 

730.00 

Insurance  and  taxes 

312.00 

Shoeing  and  repairs 

349.00 

Replenishments    . 

450.00 

"Total     . 

$22,760.00 

"  The  credit  account  reads :  first  quarter, 
$2030;  second  quarter,  $2221;  third  quarter, 
$5387 ;  fourth  quarter,  $5957 ;  total,  $15,595. 

"  If  we  take  out  the  $6670  for  the  extra  pig- 
gery and  the  grain,  the  expense  account  and  the 
income  will  almost  balance,  even  leaving  out  the 
$4000  which  we  agreed  to  pay  for  food  and  shel- 
ter. I  think  that's  a  fair  showing  for  the  three 
years,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Possibly  it  is;  but  what  a  lot  of  money  you 
pay  for  wages.     It's  the  largest  item." 

"Yes,  and  it  always  will  be.     I  don't  claim 


THE  END  OF  THE  THIRD  YEAR        391 

that  a  factory  farm  can  be  run  like  a  grazing  or 
a  grain  farm.  One  of  its  objects  is  to  furnish 
well-paid  employment  to  a  lot  of  people.  We've 
had  nine  men  and  two  lads  all  the  year,  and 
three  extra  men  for  seven  months,  three  women 
on  the  farm  and  five  in  the  house,  —  twenty-two 
people  to  whom  we've  paid  wages  this  year. 
Doesn't  that  count  for  anything?  How  many 
did  we  keep  in  the  city  ?  " 

"  Four,  —  three  women  and  a  man." 

"  Then  we  give  employment  to  eighteen  more 
people  at  equally  good  wages  and  in  quite  as 
wholesome  surroundings.  Do  you  realize,  Polly, 
that  the  maids  in  the  house  get  $1300  out  of  the 
$5300,  —  one  quarter  of  the  whole  ?  Possibly 
there  is  a  suspicion  of  extravagance  on  the  home 
forty." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !  You  know  that  you  proved 
to  me  that  it  cost  us  $5200  a  year  for  board  and 
shelter  in  the  city,  and  you  only  credit  the  farm 
with  $4000.  That  other  $1200  would  more  than 
pay  the  extra  wages.     I  really  don't  think  it 

costs  as  much  to  live  here  as  it  did  on  B 

Street,  and  any  one  can  see  the  difference." 

"  You  are  right.  If  we  call  our  plant  an  even 
$100,000,  which  at  five  per  cent  would  mean 
$5000  a  year,  —  where  can  you  get  house,  lawns, 
woods,  gardens,  horses,  dogs,  servants,  liberty, 
birds,  and  sun-dials  on  a  wide  and  liberal  scale 
for  $5000  a  year,  except  on  a  farm  like  this  ? 
You  can't  buy  furs,  diamonds,  and  yachts  with 


392  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

such  money  anyhow  or  anywhere,  so  personal 
expenditures  must  be  left  out  of  all  our  calcula- 
tions. No,  the  wage  account  will  always  be  the 
large  one,  and  I  am  glad  it  is  so,  for  it  is  one 
finger  of  the  helping  hand." 

"You  haven't  finished  with  the  figures  yet. 
You  don't  know  what  to  add  to  our  permanent 
investment." 

"  That's  quickly  done.  Nvneteen  thousand  five 
hundred  and  ninety-five  dollars  from  twenty-two 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  leaves 
three  thousand  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  dollars 
to  charge  to  our  investment.  I  resent  the  word 
1  permanent,'  which  you  underscored  just  now, 
for  .each  year  we're  going  to  have  a  surplus  to 
subtract  from  this  interest-bearing  debt." 

"  Precious  little  surplus  you'll  have  for  the 
next  few  years,  with  Jack  and  Jane  getting 
married,  and  —  " 

« But,  Polly,  you  can't  charge  weddings  to 
the  farm,  any  more  than  we  can  yachts  and 
diamonds." 

"  I  don't  see  why.  A  wedding  is  a  very  im- 
portant part  of  one's  life,  and  I  think  the  farm 
ought  to  be  made  to  pay  for  it." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you ;  but  we  must  add 
$3165  to  the  old  farm  debt,  and  take  up  our 
increased  burden  with  such  courage  as  we  may. 
In  round  figures  it  is  1106,000.  Does  that  frighten 
you,  Polly  ?  " 

"  A  little,  perhaps ;  but  I  guess  we  can  manage 


THE  END  OF  THE  THIED  YEAR        393 

it.  You  would  have  been  frightened  three  years 
ago  if  some  one  had  told  you  that  you  would  put 
$106,000  into  a  farm  of  less  than  five  hundred 
acres." 

"  You're  right.  Spending  money  on  a  farm  is 
like  other  forms  of  vice,  —  hated,  then  tolerated, 
then  embraced.  But  seriously,  a  man  would  get 
a  bargain  if  he  secured  this  property  to-day  for 
what  it  has  cost  us.  I  wouldn't  take  a  bonus 
of  $50,000  and  give  it  up." 

"  You'll  hardly  find  a  purchaser  at  that  price, 
and  I'm  glad  you  can't,  for  I  want  to  live  here 
and  nowhere  else." 


CHAPTER   LXVI 

LOOKING   BACKWAKD 

With  the  close  of  the  third  year  ends  the 
detailed  history  of  the  factory  farm.  All  I  wish 
to  do  further  is  to  give  a  brief  synopsis  of  the 
debit  and  credit  accounts  for  each  of  the  suc- 
ceeding four  years. 

First  I  will  say  a  word  about  the  people  who 
helped  me  to  start  the  factory.  Thompson  and 
his  wife  are  still  with  me,  and  they  are  well  on 
toward  the  wage  limit.  Johnson  has  the  gardens 
and  Lars  the  stables,  and  Otto  is  chief  swine- 
herd. French  and  his  wife  act  as  though  they 
were  fixtures  on  the  place,  as  indeed  I  hope 
they  are.  They  have  saved  a  lot  of  money,  and 
they  are  the  sort  who  are  inclined  to  let  well 
enough  alone.  Judson  is  still  at  Four  Oaks, 
doing  as  good  service  as  ever ;  but  I  fancy  that 
he  is  minded  to  strike  out  for  himself  before 
long.  He  has  been  fortunate  in  money  matters 
since  he  gave  up  the  horse  and  buggy;  he  in- 
formed me  six  months  ago  that  he  was  worth 
more  than  $5000. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  had  five  thousand  cents  if 
I'd  stuck  to  that  darned  old  buggy,"  said  he, 

394 


LOOKING  BACKWARD  395 

"  and  I  guess  I'll  have  to  thank  you  for  throwing 
me  down  that  day." 

Zeb  has  married  Lena,  and  a  little  cottage 
is  to  be  built  for  them  this  winter,  just  east  of 
the  farm-house;  and  Lena's  place  is  to  be  filled 
by  her  cousin,  who  has  come  from  the  old 
country. 

Anderson  and  Sam  both  left  in  1898,  —  poor* 
faithful  Anderson  because  his  heart  gave  out, 
and  Sam  because  his  beacon  called  him. 

Lars's  boys,  now  sixteen  and  eighteen,  have  full 
charge  of  the  poultry  plant,  and  are  quite  up  to 
Sam  in  his  best  days.  Of  course  I  have  had  all 
kinds  of  troubles  with  all  sorts  of  men ;  but  we 
have  such  a  strong  force  of  "  reliables  "  that  the 
atmosphere  is  not  suited  to  the  idler  or  the  hobo, 
and  we  are,  therefore,  never  seriously  annoyed. 
Of  one  thing  I  am  certain:  no  man  stays  long 
at  our  farm-house  without  apprehending  the  uses 
of  napkin  and  bath-tub,  and  these  are  strong 
missionary  forces. 

Through  careful  tilth  and  the  systematic  return 
of  all  waste  to  the  land,  the  acres  at  Four  Oaks 
have  grown  more  fertile  each  year.  The  soil  was 
good  seven  years  ago,  and  we  have  added  fifty 
per  cent  to  its  crop  capacity.  The  amount  of 
waste  to  return  to  the  land  on  a  farm  like  this 
is  enormous,  and  if  it  be  handled  with  care, 
there  will  be  no  occasion  to  spend  much  money 
for  commercial  fertilizers.  I  now  buy  fertilizers 
only  for  the  mid-summer  dressing  on  my  timothy 


396  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  alfalfa  fields.  The  apple  trees  are  very 
heavily  mulched,  even  beyond  the  spread  of  their 
branches,  with  waste  fresh  from  the  vats,  and 
once  a  year  a  light  dressing  of  muriate  of  potash 
is  applied.  The  trees  have  grown  as  fast  as 
could  be  desired,  and  all  of  them  are  now  in 
bearing.  The  apples  from  these  young  trees  sold 
for  enough  last  year  to  net  ninety  cents  for  each 
tree,  which  is  more  than  the  trees  have  ever  cost 
me. 

In  1898  these  orchards  yielded  138 ;  in  1899, 
$165;  in  1900,  $530;  in  1901,  $1117.  Seven  years 
from  the  date  of  planting  these  trees,  which  were 
then  three  years  old,  I  had  received  in  money 
$4720,  or  $1200  more  than  I  paid  for  the  fifty 
acres  of  land  on  which  they  grew.  If  one  would 
ask  for  better  returns,  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  wait ; 
for  there  is  a  sort  of  geometrical  progression  in- 
herent in  the  income  from  all  well-cared-for  or- 
chards, which  continues  in  force  for  about  fifteen 
years.  There  is,  however,  no  rule  of  progress 
unless  the  orchards  are  well  cared  for,  and  I 
would  not  lead  any  one  to  the  mistake  of  plant- 
ing an  orchard  and  then  doing  nothing  but  wait. 
Cultivate,  feed,  prune,  spray,  dig  bores,  fight  mice, 
rabbits,  aphides,  and  the  thousand  other  enemies 
to  trees  and  fruit,  and  do  these  things  all  the 
time  and  then  keep  on  doing  them,  and  you  will 
win  out.  Omit  all  or  auy  of  them,  and  the  chances 
are  that  you  will  fail  of  big  returns. 

But  orcharding  is  not  unique  in  this.     Every 


LOOKING  BACKWAED  397 

form  of  business  demands  prompt,  timely,  and  in- 
telligent attention  to  make  it  yield  its  best.  The 
orchards  have  been  my  chief  care  for  seven  years ; 
the  spraying,  mulching,  and  cultivation  have  been 
done  by  the  men,  but  I  think  I  have  spent  one 
whole  year,  during  the  past  seven,  among  my 
trees.  Do  I  charge  my  orchards  for  this  time  ? 
No ;  for  I  have  gotten  as  much  good  from  the 
trees  as  they  have  from  me,  and  honors  are  easy. 
A  meditative  man  in  his  sixth  lustrum  can  be 
very  happy  with  pruning-hook  and  shears  among 
his  young  trees.  If  he  cannot,  I  am  sincerely 
sorry  for  him. 

I  have  not  increased  my  plant  during  the  past 
four  years.  My  stock  consume  a  little  more  than 
I  can  raise ;  but  there  are  certain  things  which 
a  farm  will  not  produce,  and  there  are  other 
things  which  one  had  best  buy,  thus  letting  others 
work  their  own  specialties. 

If  I  had  more  land,  would  I  increase  my 
stock  ?  No,  unless  I  had  enough  land  to  warrant 
another  plant.  My  feeding-grounds  are  filled  to 
their  capacity  from  a  sanitary  point  of  view, 
and  it  would  be  foolish  to  take  risks  for  mod- 
erate returns.  If  I  had  as  much  more  land,  I 
would  establish  another  factory ;  but  this  would 
double  my  business  cares  without  adding  one 
item  to  my  happiness.  As  it  is,  the  farm  gives 
me  enough  to  keep  me  keenly  interested,  and  not 
enough  to  tire  or  annoy  me.  So  far  as  profits 
go,  it  is  entirely  satisfactory.     It  feeds  and  shel- 


39$  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

ters  my  family  and  twenty  others  in  the  colony, 
and  also  the  stranger  within  the  gates,  and  it 
does  this  year  after  year  without  friction,  like  a 
well-oiled  machine. 

Not  only  this.  Each  year  for  the  past  four,  it 
has  given  a  substantial  surplus  to  be  subtracted 
from  the  original  investment.  If  I  live  to  be 
sixty-eight  years  of  age,  the  farm  will  be  my 
creditor  for  a  considerable  sum.  I  have  bought 
no  corn  or  oats  since  January,  1898.  The  seven- 
teen thousand  bushels  which  I  then  had  in  my 
granary  have  slowly  grown  less,  though  there 
has  never  been  a  day  when  we  could  not  have 
measured  up  seven  thousand  or  eight  thousand 
bushels.  I  shall  probably  buy  again  when  the 
market  price  pleases  me,  for  I  have  a  horror  of 
running  short;  but  I  shall  not  sell  a  bushel,  though 
prices  jump  to  the  sky. 

I  have  seen  the  time  when  my  corn  and  oats 
would  have  brought  four  times  as  much  as  I  paid 
for  them,  but  they  were  not  for  sale.  They  are 
the  raw  material,  to  be  made  up  in  my  factory, 
and  they  are  worth  as  much  to  me  at  twenty  cents 
a  bushel  as  at  eighty  cents.  What  would  one 
think  of  the  manager  of  a  silk-thread  factory  who 
sold  his  raw  silk,  just  because  it  had  advanced 
in  price  ?  Silk  thread  would  advance  in  propor- 
tion, and  how  does  the  manager  know  that  he 
can  replace  his  silk  when  needed,  even  at  the 
advanced  price  ? 

When  corn  went  to  eighty  cents  a  bushel,  hogs 


LOOKING  BACKWARD 

sold  for  $8.25  a  hundred,  and  my  twenty-cent 
corn  made  pork  just  as  fast  as  eighty-cent  corn 
would  have  done,  and  a  great  deal  cheaper. 

Once  I  sold  some  timothy  hay,  but  it  was  to 
"  discount  the  season,"  just  as  I  bought  grain. 

On  July  18,  1901,  a  tremendous  rain  and  wind 
storm  beat  down  about  forty  acres  of  oats  be- 
yond recovery.  The  next  day  my  mowing  ma- 
chines, working  against  the  grain,  commenced 
cutting  it  for  hay.  Before  it  was  half  cut,  I  sold 
to  a  livery-stable  keeper  in  Exeter  fifty  tons  of 
bright  timothy  for  $600.  The  storm  brought  me 
no  loss,  for  the  horses  did  quite  as  well  on  the 
oat  hay  as  they  ever  had  done  on  timothy,  and 
$600  more  than  paid  for  the  loss  of  the  grain. 

During  the  first  three  years  of  my  experiment 
hogs  were  very  low,  —  lower,  indeed,  than  at  any 
other  period  for  forty  years.     It  was  not  until 

1899  that  prices  began  to  improve.  During  that 
year   my  sales   averaged  $4.50  a   hundred.     In 

1900  the  average  was  $5.25,  in  1901  it  was  $6.10, 
and  in  1902  it  was  just  $7.  It  will  be  readily 
appreciated  that  there  is  more  profit  in  pork  at 
seven  cents  a  pound  than  at  three  and  a  half  cents ; 
but  how  much  more  is  beyond  me,  for  it  cost  no 
more  to  get  my  swine  to  market  last  year  than 
it  did  in  1896.  I  charge  each  hog  $1  for  bran 
and  shorts;  this  is  all  the  ready  money  I  pay 
out  for  him.  If  he  weighs  three  hundred  pounds 
(a  few  do),  he  is  worth  $10.50  at  $3.50  a  hundred, 
or  $21  at  $7  a  hundred ;  and  it  is  a  great  deal 


400  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

pleasanter  to  say  $1  from  $21,  leaves  120,  than  to 
say  $1  from  $10.50  leaves  $9.50. 

Of  course,  $1  a  head  is  but  a  small  part  of 
what  the  hog  has  cost  when  ready  for  market, 
but  it  is  all  I  charge  him  with  directly,  for  his 
other  expenses  are  carried  on  the  farm  accounts. 
The  marked  increase  in  income  during  the  past 
four  years  is  wholly  due  to  the  advance  in  the 
price  of  pork  and  the  increased  product  of  the  or- 
chards.  The  expense  account  has  not  varied  much. 

The  fruit  crop  is  charged  with  extra  labor, 
packages,  and  transportation,  before  it  is  entered, 
and  the  account  shows  only  net  returns.  I  have 
had  to  buy  new  machinery,  but  this  has  been 
rather  evenly  distributed,  and  doesn't  show  promi- 
nently in  any  year. 

In  1900  I  lost  my  forage  barn.  It  was  struck 
by  lightning  on  June  13,  and  burned  to  the 
ground.  Fortunately,  there  was  no  wind,  and 
the  rain  came  in  such  torrents  as  to  keep  the 
other  buildings  safe.  I  had  to  scour  the  country 
over  for  hay  to  last  a  month,  and  the  expense  of 
this,  together  with  some  addition  to  the  insurance 
money,  cost  the  farm  $1000  before  the  new  struc- 
ture was  completed.  I  give  below  the  income 
and  the  outgo  for  the  last  four  years :  — 

Income  Expknsm  To  the  Good 

1899  .        .    $17,780.00  815,420.00  $2,360.00 

1900  .        .      19,460.00  16,480.00  2,980.00 

1901  .        .      21,424.00  15,520.00  5,904.00 

1902  .        .      23,365.00  15,673.00  7,692.00 

Making  a  total  to  the  good  of  .        .  $18,936.00 


LOOKING  BACKWARD  401 

These  figures  cover  only  the  money  received 
and  expended.  They  take  no  account  of  the 
$4000  per  annum  which  we  agreed  to  pay  the 
farm  for  keeping  us,  so  long  as  we  made  it  pay 
interest  to  us.  Four  times  $4000  are  $16,000 
which,  added  to  $18,936,  makes  almost  $35,000 
to  charge  off  from  the  $106,000  of  original 
investment. 

Polly  was  wrong  when  she  spoke  of  it  as  &  per- 
manent investment.  Four  years  more  of  seven-dol- 
lar pork  and  thrifty  apple  growth  will  make  this 
balance  of  $71,000  look  very  small.  The  interest 
is  growing  rapidly  less,  and  it  will  be  but  a  short 
time  before  the  whole  amount  will  be  taken  off 
the  expense  account.  When  this  is  done,  the 
yearly  balance  will  be  increased  by  the  addition 
of  $5000,  and  we  may  be  able  to  make  the  farm 
pay  for  weddings,  as  Polly  suggested. 


2d 


CHAPTER   LXVII 

LOOKING    FORWARD 

I  AM  not  so  opinionated  as  to  think  that  mine 
is  the  only  method  of  farming.  On  the  contrary, 
I  know  that  it  is  only  one  of  several  good  methods  ; 
but  that  it  is  a  good  one,  I  insist.  For  a  well-to-do, 
middle-aged  man  who  was  obliged  to  give  up  his 
profession,  it  offered  change,  recreation,  employ- 
ment, and  profit.  My  ability  to  earn  money  by 
my  profession  ceased  in  1895,  and  I  must  needs 
live  at  ease  on  my  income,  or  adopt  some  con- 
genial and  remunerative  employment,  if  such  could 
be  found.  The  vision  of  a  factory  farm  had  flitted 
through  my  brain  so  often  that  I  was  glad  of  the 
opportunity  to  test  my  theories  by  putting  them 
into  practice.  Fortunately  I  had  money,  and  to 
spare ;  for  I  had  but  a  vague  idea  of  what  money 
would  be  needed  to  carry  my  experiment  to  the 
point  of  self-support.  I  set  aside  $60,000  as 
ample,  but  I  spent  nearly  twice  that  amount 
without  blinking.  It  is  quite  likely  that  I  could 
have  secured  as  good  and  as  prompt  returns  with 
two-thirds  of  this  expenditure.  I  plead  guilty 
to  thirty-three  per  cent  lack  of  economy ;  the  ex- 
tenuating circumstances  were,  a  wish  to  let  the 

402 


LOOKING  FORWARD  403 

members  of  my  family  do  much  as  they  pleased 
and  have  good  things  and  good  people  around 
them,  and  a  somewhat  luxurious  temperament  of 
my  own. 

Polly  and  I  were  too  wise  (not  to  say  too  old) 
to  adopt  farming  as  a  means  of  grace  through 
privations.  We  wanted  the  good  there  was  in 
it,  and  nothing  else ;  but  as  a  secondary  consid^ 
eration  I  wished  to  prove  that  it  can  be  made  to 
pay  well,  even  though  one-third  of  the  money 
expended  goes  for  comforts  and  kickshaws. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  spend  so  much  on  a  five- 
hundred-acre  farm,  and  a  factory  farm  need  not 
contain  so  many  acres.  Any  number  of  acres 
from  forty  to  five  hundred,  and  any  number  of 
dollars  from  $5000  to  $100,000,  will  do,  so  long 
as  one  holds  fast  to  the  rules :  good  clean  fences 
for  security  against  trespass  by  beasts,  or  weeds ; 
high  tilth,  and  heavy  cropping ;  no  waste  or  fal- 
low land ;  conscientious  return  to  the  land  of 
refuse,  and  a  cover  crop  turned  under  every 
second  year ;  the  best  stock  that  money  can  buy ; 
feed  for  product,  not  simply  to  keep  the  animals 
alive  ;  force  product  in  every  way  not  detrimental 
to  the  product  itself ;  maintain  a  strict  quaran- 
tine around  your  animals,  and  then  depend  upon 
pure  food,  water,  air,  sunlight,  and  good  shelter 
to  keep  them  healthy  ;  sell  as  soon  as  the  prod- 
uct is  finished,  even  though  the  market  doesn't 
please  you ;  sell  only  perfect  product  under  your 
own  brand;  buy  when  the  market  pleases  you 


404  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  thus  "  discount  the  seasons";  remember  that 
interdependent  industries  are  the  essence  of  fac- 
tory farming  ;  employ  the  best  men  you  can  find, 
and  keep  them  interested  in  your  affairs ;  have 
a  definite  object  and  make  everything  bend 
toward  that  object ;  plant  apple  trees  galore  and 
make  them  your  chief  care,  as  in  time  they  will 
prove  your  chief  dependence.  These  are  some 
of  the  principles  of  factory  farming,  and  one 
doesn't  have  to  be  old,  or  rich,  to  put  them  into 
practice. 

I  would  exchange  my  age,  money,  and  acres 
for  youth  and  forty  acres,  and  think  that  I  had 
the  best  of  the  bargain ;  and  I  would  start  the 
factory  by  planting  ten  acres  of  orchard,  buying 
two  sows,  two  cows,  and  two  setting  hens. 
Youth,  strength,  and  hustle  are  a  great  sight  bet- 
ter than  money,  and  the  wise  youth  can  have  a 
finer  farm  than  mine  before  he  passes  the  half- 
century  mark,  even  though  he  have  but  a  bare 
forty  to  begin  with. 

I  do  not  take  it  for  granted  that  every  man 
has  even  a  bare  forty ;  but  millions  of  men  who 
have  it  not,  can  have  it  by  a  little  persistent  self- 
denial  ;  and  when  an  able-bodied  man  has  forty 
acres  of  ground  under  his  feet,  it  is  up  to  him 
whether  he  will  be  a  comfortable,  independent, 
self-respecting  man  or  not. 

A  great  deal  of  farm  land  is  distant  from  mar- 
kets and  otherwise  limited  in  its  range  of  pro- 
duction, but  nearly  every  forty  which  lies  east 


LOOKING  FORWARD  405 

of  the  hundredth  meridian  is  competent  to 
furnish  a  living  for  a  family  of  workers,  if  the 
workers  be  intelligent  as  well  as  industrious. 
Farm  lands  are  each  year  being  brought  closer 
to  markets  by  steam  and  electric  roads ;  tele- 
phone and  telegraphic  wires  give  immediate  ser- 
vice ;  and  the  daily  distribution  of  mails  brings 
the  producer  into  close  touch  with  the  consumer. 
The  day  of  isolation  and  seclusion  has  passed, 
and  the  farmer  is  a  personal  factor  in  the  mar- 
ket. He  is  learning  the  advantages  of  coopera- 
tion, both  in  producing  and  in  disposing  of  his 
wares ;  he  has  paid  off  his  mortgage  and  has 
money  in  the  bank ;  he  is  a  power  in  politics, 
and  by  far  the  most  dependable  element  in  the 
state.  Like  the  wrestler  of  old,  who  gained  new 
strength  whenever  his  foot  touched  the  ground, 
our  country  gains  fresh  vigor  from  every  man  who 
takes  to  the  soil. 

In  preaching  a  hejira  to  the  country,  I  do  not 
forget  the  interests  of  the  children.  Let  no  one 
dread  country  life  for  the  young  until  they  come 
to  the  full  pith  and  stature  of  maturity ;  for 
their  chances  of  doing  things  worth  doing  in  the 
world  are  four  to  one  against  those  of  children 
who  are  city-bred.  Four-fifths  of  the  men  and 
women  who  do  great  things  are  country-bred. 
This  is  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  birth-rate  as 
between  country  and  city,  and  one  is  at  a  loss  to 
account  for  the  disproportion,  unless  it  is  to  be 
credited  to  environment.     Is  it  due  to  pure  air 


406  THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND 

and  sunshine,  making  redder  blood  and  more  vig- 
orous development,  to  broader  horizons  and  free- 
dom from  abnormal  conventions  ?  Or  does  a  close 
relation  to  primary  things  give  a  newness  to 
mind  and  body  which  is  granted  only  to  those 
who  apply  in  person  ? 

Whatever  the  reason,  it  certainly  pays  to  be 
country-bred.  The  cities  draw  to  themselves  the 
cream  of  these  youngsters,  which  is  only  natural ; 
but  the  cities  do  not  breed  them,  except  as 
exotics. 

If  the  unborn  would  heed  my  advice,  I  would 
say,  By  all  means  be  born  in  the  country,  —  in 
Ohio  if  possible.  But,  if  fortune  does  not  prove 
as  kind  to  you  as  I  could  wish,  accept  this  other 
advice:  Choose  the  country  for  your  foster- 
mother  ;  go  to  her  for  consolation  and  rejuvena- 
tion, take  her  bounty  gratefully,  rest  on  her  fair 
bosom,  and  be  content  with  the  fat  of  the  land. 


THE   RURAL  SCIENCE  SERIES 

Includes  books  which  state  the  underlying  principles 
of  agriculture  in  plain  language.  They  are  suitable 
for  consultation  alike  by  the  amateur  or  professional 
tiller  of  the  soil,  the  scientist  or  the  student,  and  are 
freely  illustrated  and  finely  made. 

The  following  volumes  are  now  ready : 

THE  SOIL.  By  F.  H.  King,  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin.  303  pp. 
45  illustrations.    75  cents. 

THE  FERTILITY  OF  THE  LAND.  By  I.  P.  Roberts,  of  Cornell  Uni- 
versity.   Second  edition.    421  pp.    45  illustrations.    $1.25. 

THE  SPRAYING  OF  PLANTS.  By  E.  G.  Lodeman,  late  of  Cornell 
University.    399  pp.    92  illustrations.     $1.00. 

MILK  AND  ITS  PRODUCTS.  By  H.  H.  Wing,  of  Cornell  University. 
Third  edition.     311  pp.    43  illustrations.    $1.00. 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  FRUIT-GROWING.  By  L.  H.  Bailey.  Third 
edition.    516  pp.    120  illustrations.    $1.25. 

BUSH-FRUITS.  By  F.  W.  Card,  of  Rhode  Island  College  of  Agriculture 
and  Mechanic  Arts.    Second  edition.    537  pp.    113  illustrations.    #1.50. 

FERTILIZERS.  By  E.  B.  Voorhees,  of  New  Jersey  Experiment  Station. 
Second  edition.    332  pp.    $1.00. 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  AGRICULTURE.  By  L.  H.  Bailey.  Third 
edition.    300  pp.    92  illustrations.     #1.25. 

IRRIGATION  AND  DRAINAGE.  By  F.  H.  KING,  University  of  Wis- 
consin.   502  pp.     163  illustrations.    $1.50. 

THE  FARMSTEAD.    By  I.  P.  Roberts.   350  pp.   138  illustrations.   $1.25. 

RURAL  WEALTH  AND  WELFARE.  By  George  T.  FAIRCHILD,  ex- 
President  of  the  Agricultural  College  of  Kansas.  381  pp.  14  charts. 
$1.25- 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  VEGETABLE-GARDENING.  By  L.  H.  Bailey. 

468  pp.     144  illustrations.    #1.25. 

THE  FEEDING  OF  ANIMALS.  By  W.  H.  Jordan,  of  New  York  State 
Experiment  Station.    #1.25  net. 

FARM  POULTRY.  By  GEORGE  C.  WATSON,  of  Pennsylvania  State  Col- 
lege.   $1.25  net. 

CARE  OF  ANIMALS.  By  N.  S.  MAYO,  of  Connecticut  Agricultural  Col- 
lage.   #1.25  net. 

New  volumes  will  be  added  from  time  to  time  to 
the  Rural  Science  Series.  The  following  are  in 
preparation : 

PHYSIOLOGY  OF  PLANTS.    By  J.  C.  Arthur,  Purdue  University. 
BREEDING  OF  ANIMALS.    By  W.  H.  Brewer,  of  Yale  University. 
PLANT  PATHOLOGY.    By  B.  T.  GALLOWAY  and  associates  of  U.  S. 
Department  of  Agriculture. 


THE  GARDEN-CRAFT  SERIES 

Comprises  practical  hand-books  for  the  horticulturist, 
explaining  and  illustrating  in  detail  the  various  im- 
portant methods  which  experience  has  demonstrated 
to  be  the  most  satisfactory.  They  may  be  called 
manuals  of  practice,  and  though  all  are  prepared  by 
Professor  Bailey,  of  Cornell  University,  they  include 
the  opinions  and  methods  of  successful  specialists  in 
many  lines,  thus  combining  the  results  of  the  obser- 
vations and  experiences  of  numerous  students  in  this 
and  other  lands.  They  are  written  in  the  clear,  strong, 
concise  English  and  in  the  entertaining  style  which 
characterize  the  author.  The  volumes  are  compact, 
uniform  in  style,  clearly  printed,  and  illustrated  as 
the  subject  demands.  They  are  of  convenient  shape 
for  the  pocket,  and  are  substantially  bound  in  flexible 
green  cloth. 

THE  HOBTICXTLTUEIST'S  RULE-BOOK.    By  L.  H.  BAILEY.    Fourth 
edition.    312  pp.    75  cts. 

THE  NTJBSEBY-BOOK.    By  L.  H.  Bailey.    Fourth  edition.    365  pp. 
152  illustrations.    $1.00. 

PLANT-BREEDING.     By    L.  H.  BAILEY.     293  pp.     20  illustrations. 

$1.00. 

THE  FORCING-BOOK.     By  L.  H.  BAILEY.     266  pp.    88  illustrations. 
#1.00. 

GABDEN-MAKING.    By  L.  H.  Bailey.    Third  edition.    417  pp.    256 
illustrations.    $1.00. 

THE  PEUNIHG-BOOK.    By  L.  H.  Bailey.    Second  edition.    545  pp. 
331  illustrations.    $1.50. 

THE  PBACTICAL  GABDEN-BOOK.    By  C.  E.  HUNN  and  L.  H.  BAILEY. 
250  pp.    Many  marginal  cuts.    $1.00. 


The  Garden  of  a  Commuter's  Wife 

Recorded  by  the  Gardener 

With  Eight  Photogravure  Illustrations 
Cloth  i2mo  $1.50 

"In  brief,  the  book  is  delightfully  sketchy  and  chatty,  thoroughly 
feminine  and  entrancing.  The  writer  represents  herself  as  a  doctor's 
daughter  in  a  country  town,  who  has  married  an  Englishman,  and  after 
two  years  abroad  has  come  home  to  live.  Both  husband  and  wife  prefer 
the  country  to  the  city,  and  they  make  of  their  modest  estate  a  mundane 
paradise  of  which  it  is  a  privilege  to  have  a  glimpse.  Surely  it  is  no  exag- 
geration to  characterize  this  as  one  of  the  very  best  books  of  the  holiday 
season,  thus  far." — Providence  yournal. 

"  It  is  written  with  charm,  and  is  more  than  a  mere  treatise  on  what 
may  be  raised  in  the  small  lot  of  the  suburban  resident. 

"  The  author  has  not  only  learned  to  appreciate  nature  from  intimate 
association,  but  has  achieved  unusual  power  of  communicating  these  facts 
to  others.    There  is  something  unusually  attractive  about  the  book." 

—  The  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 


A  Woman's  Hardy  Garden 

By  HELENA  RUTHERFORD  ELY 

With  many  Illustrations  from  Photographs  taken  in  the  Author's  Garden 
by  Professor  C.  F.  Chandler 

Cloth  i2mo  $1.75  net 

"  It  Is  never  for  a  moment  vague  or  general,  and  Mrs.  Ely  is  certainly 
inspiring  and  helpful  to  the  prospective  gardener."  —  Boston  Herald. 

"  Mrs.  Ely  gives  copious  details  of  the  cost  of  plants,  the  exact  dates 
of  planting,  the  number  of  plants  required  in  a  given  space  for  beauty  of 
effect  and  advantage  to  free  growth,  the  protection  needed  from  sun  and 
frost,  the  precautions  to  take  against  injury  from  insects,  the  satisfaction  to 
be  expected  from  the  different  varieties  of  plants  in  the  matter  of  luxuriant 
bloom  and  length  of  time  for  blossoming,  and  much  information  to  be 
appreciated  only  by  those  who  have  raised  a  healthy  garden  by  the  slow 
teachings  of  personal  experience."  —  New  York  Times  Saturday  Review. 


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